Twice in a Lifetime
by htdcd
Summary: Who says you can only fall in love once? After Ginny, can Harry learn to love again? *Character Death*
1. Chapter 1

***A/N*** While this is not strictly AU, per se, it does interject some details that are not from canon and some may choose to label it AU. And if you don't like post-Hogwarts fics that change significant details from canon, you probably shouldn't read this.

18+, HP/GW, HP/SS, HG/RW, slash, character death.

**Twice in a Lifetime**

_Prologue_

Harry Potter had been married – happily married – to Ginny for over 2 decades. They had three beautiful children together, the youngest of which was very near the end of her Hogwarts education. He was happier than he thought anyone ought to have the right to be: in his marriage, in his job, and in his life in general.

He was at work when it happened. It was one of the rare days that he spent in the office; being an Auror was generally considered a permanent field assignment. He was pouring over some long-overdue paperwork that needed filing when his secretary, Oriander, came rushing in, looking quite disheveled.

"Sir," he nearly shouted, quite out of breath, "an Owl's just arrived for you – you're needed at St. Mungo's at once. Sir," he repeated again.

Harry looked up at Oriander, concern and confusion evident on his face. "What's happened?" He asked, already getting to his feet.

"It says," Oriander paused, clearly unsure of how to phrase his news, "it says there's been an accident."

Harry's stomach dropped to his feet as his heart simultaneously jumped into his throat. "What kind of accident?" He demanded, as he swung around his desk and grabbed his cloak from its hook.

"I…it doesn't really say," Oriander hedged.

Harry stopped dead and glared at his assistant, "Who?" he asked forcefully.

Oriander hesitated.

"Who?" Harry ordered, louder. His children's faces flashed through his head. Had Lily had a Quidditch accident? Had Al encountered some sort of dark curse while on the job? What had James done this time?

Oriander's answer was unwilling, whispered: "Ginny."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. He twisted on the spot and was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

It had been unexpected, unpreventable, unforeseeable. An explosion the result of a gas leak in the subway. In her close work with Muggles, Ginny took the underground quite frequently. She was not the only victim. Nearly 50 innocent people had died in the tragedy. Ginny had been the only witch; by the time she had arrived at the hospital and the Healers finally found her, it was too late.

That week was a blur for Harry and his children. Hermione and Ron had agreed to take care of the arrangements; Harry simply had to nod his agreement to questions that he neither heard, nor cared about. He had spent what felt like days at the kitchen table, but couldn't remember eating. He vaguely remembered Ron coming by and practically force-feeding him something a few times, but other than that, his only memories were of him hugging his children as they cried into his shoulders, him stroking their hair, soothing their backs with his hands. The funeral seemed to occur around him like he was looking through some sort of tunnel, like he was a million miles away. Everything sounded fuzzy, and he felt like he was in some sort of fog. He thought he remembered shaking lots of hands, getting hugs. He was unaware of exactly who had showed up and oblivious to the frequent darts of Hermione's eyes as the ceremony wore on. Before it had a chance to register, it was over, and Ginny was gone – buried beneath the earth in the Godric's Hollow cemetery, along with Harry's parents, Dumbledore's family, and so many others.

James and Albus returned to work, and Lily to Hogwarts. The Ministry gave Harry bereavement time – as much as he needed, they said. Harry found himself back at the kitchen table, staring at the grains in the wood as though they would suddenly come to life. He felt the sun move across the sky, changing angles through the windows. Sometimes, he laid his head down and closed his eyes; he supposed he might have slept. He received a plethora of Owls, but the only ones he opened were from his children – he knew he had to be strong for them; he wouldn't give them any reason to worry, not while they were trying to heal. It hadn't even occurred to him that he had not shed a single tear himself.

He opened the letter again – the letter Ginny had left him.

_Dearest Harry,_

_My love, I hope you never, __ever__ have reason to read this, but I know that it is possible, which is why I am writing it. I want you to know that I love you with all my heart, body, and soul. I have loved you since the day I set eyes on you in King's Cross. I only hoped and prayed for so many years that you would love me, too. I am prouder of you than I could ever say. I am so lucky to have had you as a husband and as the father of my children. I know you will find it difficult to deal with this, but James, Albus, and Lily will need you to be strong. We won't be apart for long, and you know I'll never really be gone. You can always find me. I'll always be with you. Harry, you have to understand something. I have to make sure I am inordinately clear. It is my fervent wish that you find a way to make yourself happy once I am gone. I want you to find someone who makes you happy. I do not care who it is. Please, believe me that this is the thing I want most in this world – for you to be happy. No matter what. Promise me you will do this. And remember, death is just a passing through the world. I have only gone into the next room, waiting for you, just out of sight. I will be there for you when you arrive. I am simply in the next room, ready to see you when you come to me. It will be our next great adventure. I love you._

_Always,_

_Ginny_

He had completely lost track of time when he jumped at the sound of the Floo. He whirled around to see Hermione brushing herself off as she stepped into the kitchen from the living room fireplace.

"Did I startle you?" She asked concernedly.

Harry shook his head and set the paper down on the table.

"Sorry," Hermione apologized anyway. "It's been nearly two weeks. You haven't answered any of our Owls; I had to come and check on you." Her eyes darted to the kitchen counter. "Have you answered _any_ of your Owls?" She inclined her head to the growing stack of unopened letters.

Harry nodded and said, "Kids," surprised at how his voice cracked from lack of use.

Hermione's expression softened, her eyebrows drawing together. She walked over to Harry and sat down next to him, taking his hands in hers. "Harry," she said softly, brushing his hair out of his eyes, "Harry, how are you? Really? We've been so worried about you. It's been weeks. Have you eaten at all? Slept? These clothes look like you've been in them for days." Her hands smoothed over his shoulders.

Harry's eyes shifted to the floor.

"Harry?" Hermione's hand cupped under his chin and forced his head up. "Harry, you have to eat. You have to sleep. Say something," she begged him.

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head again.

"I know," Hermione said softly, "we miss her, too." And she pulled Harry into her and laid his head on her shoulder.

Harry awoke in bed – still in his clothes, but underneath the covers. At least he didn't have his shoes on. He turned to his nightstand and saw a folded note.

_Harry,_

_You fell asleep on my shoulder and I thought it best if you slept in your bed – you looked dreadful. I've made you some meals for the next few days – I understand if you still want some time alone. But if you need anything – even another hug, please just Owl us. Or Floo over – we'd love to have you. It will get better, Harry. We're here for you. Please take care of yourself._

_Love, Hermione_

Harry's mouth curved up into what was almost a smile. His face felt like a stone cracking. He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His stomach growled and he decided he might as well make use of Hermione's cooking – it was nearly as good as Gin – no, he wasn't going to think about that. As Harry trekked downstairs, he noticed the house sounded dreadfully quiet. He was sure it had been that way for a while, but it was only just now that he actually noticed it. He suddenly realized he had no earthly idea what day it was. He looked down at his watch and his eyes widened in surprise. He had slept through the evening Hermione came, the entire next day, and the following night. It was eight in the morning and he squinted into the sunlight streaming through the windows. He noticed the food on the counter and walked over. _Labels_, he thought to himself, suppressing a snort, _of course they would be labeled_. Detailed content descriptions, along with b_reakfast, lunch, _and_ dinner_ labels, were on each dish. He managed a half-hearted smile as he chose the nearest breakfast dish and walked over to the table.

He summoned some silverware as he was sitting down, and he was lifting off the cover of the dish when he noticed a book sitting on the table – a book that had most certainly not been there the last time he was down here. _The Seven Stages of Grief_, the title read, _Dealing with the Loss of a Loved One_. He took three bites of breakfast, the taste not registering on his tongue, before he reached out a tentative hand to finger the cover. He assumed Hermione had either left it before she had gone, or had perhaps come back later and put it there. He pulled the book over to himself and opened the cover to look at the table of contents.

_Shock_

_Denial_

_Anger_

_Blame_

_Guilt_

_Pain_

_Acceptance_

Harry closed the cover, not sure if he wanted to continue. He finished his breakfast – as much as he could, anyway, and vanished the rest. He cleaned the plate and sent it back to the counter, making a mental note to return it to Ron and Hermione's the next time he went over. He noticed the kitchen and dining area seemed to need tidying up, so he set to work making the room look habitable. Over the next few days, he managed to find the motivation to complete some other necessary household chores – including a shower for himself and laundry. He also managed to sort through some of his mail and answer the ones he felt like he could without falling apart – which seemed like it could happen at any given moment. In fact, the more time that passed, the more he could acutely feel the thin strings that seemed to hold him together. He could feel how tenuous they were, threatening to break at the slightest nudge. It was exhausting, keeping the strings from breaking. He found himself sleeping more and more, just to escape from the strings. In fact, after a while, he noticed that whereas a few weeks ago he had slept almost none, now he was spending more time asleep than awake. Some days it took all his strength just to climb out of bed.

It was with quite a bit of shock one morning when he heard a distinct knock on his front door.

He undid the latch and cracked the door to see who his visitor was, and his eyes widened with surprise when they fell upon the face of his guest.

"Severus!" he exclaimed in surprise. Professor Snape had been discovered alive after the battle, having fortuitously taken some anti-venom for Voldemort's snake before being summoned to see him. He had taken other precautions, as well, and had for quite some time, once the Dark Lord had procured the Elder Wand. Severus had known it wouldn't take Voldemort much time to deduce (albeit incorrectly) that Severus was the wand's true owner. It hadn't been assured he would make a full recovery, but with the expert help of the healers who had tended to Arthur Weasley some 2 years beforehand with similar injuries, he was out of St. Mungo's in a relatively short period of time. Now he fit into Harry's life on the periphery, coming over for Christmas, Easter, and other times when family and friends were invited.

"Mr. Potter," Severus Snape responded in what was, for him anyway, a cordial tone.

"What are you doing here?" Harry genuinely puzzled as he opened the door wider.

"Well, I was foremost hoping you might invite me inside, seeing as how it is beginning to rain." Snape answered blandly.

"Sorry," Harry apologized quickly, and backed away so Snape could enter. "Come in."

Snape quickly crossed the threshold and made enough room for Harry to close the door behind him. Severus shrugged out of his cloak and Harry held out his arms to take it, hanging it on a hook behind the door. Harry made his way to the sitting room and gestured for Snape to sit in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. Harry took the opposing chair. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as Snape kept his gaze fixed on Harry.

Harry cleared his throat, feeling suspiciously like a schoolboy again. "Erm, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Harry asked again, that fact that Snape had not answered his question earlier did not escape him.

Snape folded his hands together, his index fingers touching at the tips. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair and he pressed his fingers lightly to his lips. After a moment of surveying Harry, he leaned back and let his hands fall into his lap. "It has come to my attention, Mr. Potter, that you have not been out of this house for nearly two months. Are these rumors true?"

Two months? Harry thought to himself, eyes widening. He'd no idea it had been quite that long. It still felt like just days ago that his world had been turned upside down, the carpet tugged unceremoniously from underneath his feet.

"Judging from your reaction and lack of protest, I would surmise that they are indeed, although perhaps you were quite unaware that this length of time was so extensive."

Harry nodded mutely.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, that is to say, Mr. Weasley and the former Ms. Granger, have implored me to come in what I assured them would be a futile attempt to coax you out of your rabbit hole."

Harry's eyes narrowed. Snape sighed.

"Please, Mr. Potter, spare me your retributions. This island has room for only so many hermits. I believe that I am currently occupying the last available spot. So unless you wish to murder me in order to claim my place – which I would most certainly understand," he inclined his head with a smirk, "it seems we have some work to do."

"Work?" Harry finally found his voice.

"I suppose that may not be the right word. I am told you are occasionally known to engage in a game of chess?"

Harry's face contorted in true confusion. Snape was here to – to play games with him?

"I, erm, Severus, I don't understand…you want to play? Chess? With me?" Harry waited, but got no real answer, just a raised eyebrow from Snape, which after years of practice he knew meant '_Really? You expect me to answer such an imbecilic question?' _

"Look," he continued, "I know that things are different now, I mean, I'm glad we see each other at holidays, and Quidditch matches and such, but chess? Do you even know how to play chess?"

At that, Snape rolled his eyes and gave a measured sigh, then shifted in his seat, leaning slightly forward. "Mr. Potter, I appreciate your sentiments about our…time spent together during the years, and no, I do not _really_ want to play chess with you; based upon my interactions with you in the classroom for six years it promises to be a ridiculously boring – and short – escapade. However, contrary to popular belief, I do, in fact, know considerably more than how to brew potions, deliver curses, and display brilliantly sarcastic wit."

Harry stared, the silence hanging in the air. Finally, he responded, "Then why are you here? If you don't want to be?"

Harry was treated to yet another eye roll. "Mr. Potter, I merely said I did not want to play chess with you, not that I didn't want to be here. Yet again, your auditory powers astound me."

Harry bristled. Even after over 30 years, he wasn't used to Snape's condescension. "Why _are_ you here, then, if it's not to play a boring game of chess?"

This time, he got a measured look from Snape rather than an eye roll. _An improvement_, Harry thought to himself.

"I have been informed that visits from your peers and family members have done little in the way of helping you return to some semblance of a normal life. Several of them thought it time to involve someone with whom you had a…different…relationship."

"You?" It was Harry's turn to raise a brow.

"Obviously," Snape drawled, bordering insulting.

"What made them think _you'd_ be more…successful?" Harry struggled to find the right word.

"I am still asking myself the same question. However, it seems they knew what they were doing."

"What?" Harry was baffled. He certainly didn't feel any better than he had in the last – what was it – two months?

"Well, I have been told that no one has heard you speak more than one or two words at a time, most of those being monosyllabic. I, on the other hand, have graduated you to entire sentences – although they are full of a rather low level of vocabulary."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Snape curled one corner of his mouth into a smirk and inclined his head slightly toward Harry, clearly in an endeavor to say, _'I told you so.'_

Harry was unsure of what to do. He couldn't sort through the emotions flooding his brain and his body – it had been too long since he'd felt much of anything except fatigue and the occasional hunger. He finally sighed in defeat.

"You really play chess?"

Snape smirked again at him, his eyes narrowing in challenge.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Harry had ended up playing several games of chess with Snape that day, and was astounded to learn that the Professor was quite capable in the game, winning more than half of the time. _Although_, Harry conceded, it shouldn't have really shocked him _that_ much; Snape was one of the most cunning people who had ever lived.

They had played, with mild conversation between them, until a soft chime had gone off in Snape's pocket. He had pulled out a watch and apologized for having to leave in the middle of a game, but offered – in a backhanded and convoluted way – to come over again sometime soon, if Harry would allow it. Harry had shrugged in response. Snape's eyes tightened as he measured something in Harry's face, and then left silently, the only sound being the door shut behind him – apparently not insulted that Harry had not walked him to the door.

And so the pattern continued. Once or twice a week, Snape would come over to Harry's house. Eventually, they stopped playing game after game of chess and simply conversed about things – the state of Hogwarts, Harry's two oldest children and their jobs, happenings at the Ministry.

"Have you gone back to work, then?" Severus had asked one evening.

"Yeah," Harry answered, "I started back last week."

"And? How are you finding it? Being back?" Severus prodded.

"About the same as before," Harry conceded.

"Do you enjoy your job?" Severus asked with genuine curiosity.

"I do, actually," Harry replied, "I'm really happy at the Ministry."

Severus snorted softly, "I believe it may be illegal to mention the words 'happy' and 'Ministry' in the same sentence."

Harry's face broke into a wide smile. Severus looked at him curiously, and the smile quickly vanished.

Christmas holidays finally arrived and everyone converged at the Burrow. There was turkey and ham and pie, and a whole host of other delectable treats that Harry felt like he was enjoying for the first time. Over the past several weeks, Harry felt as though he had awakened from a deep slumber. There was still a numbness inside of him, but he felt like he was at least functioning on some level. The entire evening he only felt uncomfortable a few times, when he had noticed Severus watching him from the corner of the room – the usual place the man occupied at gatherings such as these. But Harry had earned some hugs and smiles from everybody else, the most heartfelt being from Hermione, who smiled smugly every time she saw Harry catching Snape looking at him.

The evening had finally ended, and Harry had Floo'd back to his house with Lily, Albus, and James, who were to stay with him a bit longer – Lily, of course, for the entire holidays. He sent Lily to bed soon after they arrived, but had cracked open some Firewhisky for Albus, James, and himself as they sat in front of the fire. It was quiet for a while before James spoke.

"Where are all the pictures, Dad?"

"Pictures?" Harry questioned.

James and Albus exchanged a look. It became evident to Harry that they had discussed having this conversation before coming over.

"Yeah, the pictures. Of Mum. You've still got all ours up, but all the ones with Mum are gone. Where'd they go?"

Harry struggled to remember; he hadn't noticed that they were missing, but as he searched his memory from the haze of days surrounding the accident, he remembered whipping around the house in a frenzy, taking down everything that reminded him directly of Ginny. He realized he had stored them in the attic.

"Up in the attic." He answered.

"Mmm," James made a non-committal sound.

"What do you mean, 'Mmm'?" Harry riled.

"Nothing, Dad, just…wondering what you'd done with them. If you might ever put them back out again."

"Of course I'm going to put them back out," Harry raised his voice. "I've been busy," he rationalized.

"Calm down, Dad," Albus said, "you'll wake Lily."

"I'm not upset," Harry retorted.

"All right," James placated, shifting forward in his seat. "Do you want us to help you do it tomorrow?"

"No," Harry shook his head quickly, "no, not tomorrow. Later. Some other time."

"Fine," James pushed, "we can do it before we leave next week."

"No," Harry said more forcefully, "no…" unable to continue, fury and fear bubbling up inside him.

"Fine," James continued, fully aware that he was on thin ice. "What about her things? Have you gone through them yet? We could help with that – clean up a bit."

Harry felt his chest constrict. It was getting hard to breathe. He bolted up from his chair. "No!" He nearly shouted, "No, I don't want your help! I'll do it!"

Albus made a move to get up, but James gave him a look and he stayed in his seat. "When, Dad? When are you going to do it?" James' voice was calm and measured.

Harry ran his hand through his hair franticly. His palms were sweaty and he was gasping for air. "I…I…" he couldn't form a coherent thought. "Leave me alone!" He shouted, and turned to run up the stairs.

"Dad?" Lily had awoken and was making her way down the stairs in her nightgown. "Is everything all…"

Harry cut her off as he stormed by her, taking the stairs two at a time. He made it into the bedroom and locked the door behind him. Turning, he leaned his back up against the door and took deep gulps of air, finally sliding to the floor and putting his head in his hands, alone in the dark.

James and Albus didn't mention anything about Ginny's things again for the rest of the holidays. The incident blew over and soon the children were gone. Once they had left, though, Harry found himself getting agitated at the smallest things, even breaking a glass once against the wall because he couldn't get it completely clean. It had been a while since he had seen everyone from the party, his only company being his colleagues at work, and he had largely stopped speaking to them unless it was completely necessary. Ron, even, had stopped trying to make pleasant conversation after Harry had snapped at him over something trivial.

He should have been unsurprised when he heard the knock at his door in mid-January. Seeing Snape standing there, face pale despite the biting wind, however, took him aback, although he hid it with an eye roll. Snape didn't wait to be invited in and unceremoniously entered, bumping the door into Harry on his way to the kitchen.

"Hey!" Harry bristled.

"Really, Mr. Potter," Snape said impatiently, "if I wanted the manners and vocabulary of a two-year-old, I would have visited a different household." He hung up his travelling cloak on the nearest wall peg and sat himself down at a chair by the table.

"You can't…this is my…what are you doing here?" Harry finally managed to get out.

"Admirably coherent, as always," Snape condescended as he crossed one ankle over the opposing knee and folded his arms across his chest.

"You can't just barge into my house and sit down in my kitchen like…like you live here or something," Harry shouted.

"Clearly I can, as I have already done so. Incidentally, there is no need to shout – advanced as I may be in years, I assure you I still have full faculty of my sense of hearing. And make no mistake – I have absolutely no desire to live here."

Harry leaned forward, gripping the sides of the table until his knuckles turned white. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" He repeated dangerously.

Snape looked up at him, boredom evident in his black eyes, "Really , Mr. Potter, do you honestly think that after all we have been through that your temper in any way intimidates me?"

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at Snape's face.

"Or your wand? We both know I could demolish you with my eyes closed. And both hands tied behind my back."

Harry re-gripped his wand.

"Sit down," Snape rolled his eyes and sighed. When Harry made no move to follow his instructions, he repeated, louder, "I said, sit _down_, Mr. Potter."

Harry conceded defeat and flopped into the nearest chair, setting his wand on the table. They sat in measurable silence for several minutes, Harry staring at the table.

"How were your Christmas holidays?" Snape finally asked.

Harry looked up, incredulous. "You were there," he remarked.

"As you'll recall," Snape drawled, "I attended the gathering at the Burrow, which, if my memory is correct, lasted a little more than five hours. The Christmas holidays, if I am not mistaken, usually measure in at closer to two weeks."

"They were fine." Harry replied, looking back down at the table.

"Really?" Snape said in a tone that clearly implied he was unconvinced. "I find that strange, given I had a most uninvited visit from your eldest son who regaled me with a tale about how you shouted at him, stomped up the stairs like a four-year-old, and then proceeded to lock yourself in your bedroom."

Harry's head snapped up, eyes tightening. "We had a row."

"Did you now?" Snape goaded. "Do tell."

"They asked me…they wanted me to…I couldn't…we had a row," he repeated emphatically.

"About what, Mr. Potter?"

"Nothing," Harry answered after a pause.

"Don't lie to me, Mr. Potter. Even if I were not a superb Legilimens, and you not a woefully inadequate Occlumens, you are supremely unskilled at lying. About what did you argue?"

"I'm sure James told you." Harry evaded.

"And I am asking you," Snape said pointedly.

"Is that why you're here? To try and get me to…talk about it? Do something about it? Why can't everyone just leave me alone?" Harry stood up again, his hands going to the sides of his head, as though a headache were approaching.

"Because you are an adult, Mr. Potter," Snape snapped, rising fluidly out of his seat and taking a step toward Harry. "A terrible thing has happened to you, and it seems to most of those who are close to you that you are doing little to deal with it."

Harry seethed at him.

"And, incidentally," Snape continued, straightening up and crossing his arms, "I am _not_ here to talk about that. I am here to discuss a certain book, which you hopefully found after Mrs. Weasley visited you a few months ago."

Harry's anger abated instantly, replaced with confusion, "Book? What book?"

"She left it on this table. As it is no longer here, I assume you found it and put it elsewhere. One can only hope it was not the fireplace or the rubbish bin."

"Oh," Harry remembered, "That book."

Snape curved the corners of his mouth in what could only be described as an annoyed grimace.

"How d'you know about that book?"

With an eye roll, Snape sat back down and intimated Harry should do the same, which he did. "Because I gave it to her, in the hope that you would find it useful."

Harry's eyes widened and his brow rose to near his hairline. "You? Why?"

Snape drew in a long breath of practiced patience, "As I have just stated, I had hoped you would find it to be of some use. Really, Mr. Potter, I am distressed that our conversations leave me feeling as though I were spending time with a first year Potions student."

"I heard what you said," Harry was irked. "I meant, why did you even care?"

"First of all," Snape began, "I would have thought that by now, you would have learned to say what you mean, so as to not leave your audience with a flawed impression requiring so much inference." Harry opened his mouth to speak, clearly incensed, but Snape held up a hand to forestall him. "Second, I would have hoped that over the past few years, my interactions with you had convinced you that I have neither a heart of stone nor a one-tracked desire to make your life a living hell anymore. The reports of your actions from those closest to you were distressing. That book has helped me, and many I know. I thought you might benefit from it as well."

"Helped you?" Harry was intrigued.

"Yes, Mr. Potter," Snape deliberately kept his voice in 'lecture mode'. "Difficult though it may be to believe, you are not the only one who has suffered such a heart-rendering loss. If you'll recall, in the final battle with the Dark Lord alone, many people lost their lives – I assure you, all of them had family members who were equally as devastated with those losses as you are with yours."

Harry leaned back, appropriately abashed.

Snape continued, "And in accordance with your absurd independent streak that comes with being an insufferable Gryffindor, you have refused the help of those who have reached out to you in your time of need, although they could have been of immeasurable help. I foresaw this, knowing you – if I may be so bold to assume – rather well, and thought you might perhaps choose to use a more private way of overcoming this tragedy. Although it seems as though what the former Ms. Granger has said is quite true. You do not, in fact, read."

"I can read," Harry retorted, although weakly.

"Quite." Was Snape's only reply.

They sat in silence for quite some time before Harry spoke.

"I did read the table of contents."

"Mmm," was Snape's only reply.

"I'll start it tonight," Harry conceded.

"See that you do," Snape ordered. "Now would be preferable," he amended. "Shall I leave you to it, then?"

Harry nodded, feeling like he had just been given homework.

"When I return, I expect to be able to have an intelligent discussion about the first chapter." He directed, rising from his chair, retrieving his cloak, and making his way to the front door.

"When will that be, sir?" Harry reverted into school-boy mode, although he was over 40.

"I am unsure when my schedule will allow. Feel free to read ahead." And with that, he exited and shut the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Mature content - read with discretion_

**Chapter 3**

Harry had, actually, 'read ahead', as Snape had put it. In fact, by the time he saw Snape again, he had already finished chapter 3.

"Well?" Snape asked, "How did you find it?"

"Useful," Harry admitted grudgingly.

"I thought you might," Snape said with an air of superiority. "Now, do you find yourself identifying particularly with any of the three stages about which you have recently read?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted, although less grudgingly this time.

"I would have thought," Snape leaned forward in his armchair, "that the fact you have failed to replace the pictures with your wife around your house and – forgive me if I assume too much – the fact that you have not gone through her things, would have alerted you to the fact that you are most evidently in the state of denial."

Harry looked at him but said nothing.

"Although," Snape continued, "perhaps your argument with your sons over Christmas places you somewhat in the anger phase."

Harry remained silent.

"You may find that writing down your thoughts will help you organize what you are feeling, and make it easier to talk about, if you wish to do so. This, I also highly recommend. I am more than willing to listen, although if you prefer not to share your innermost feelings with me, I would certainly understand. But I suggest sincerely that you find someone with whom you are comfortable. I assure you, things will move along much more quickly if you gather the courage to discuss them aloud. With someone."

"Things?" Harry inquired, "Move along?"

"Processing your grief," Snape clarified. "If you are to resume a normal life and enjoy it, you must do so – and sooner rather than later."

Harry remained silent, looking down at the table, keenly aware that Snape's eyes were on him. "It hurts," he whispered, not sure if it was loud enough for Snape to hear.

"I know," Snape responded, equally as quiet.

They sat like that for a while, Harry staring at the table, Snape staring at Harry. Finally, Snape stood and cleared his throat. "Upon my return, I shall expect an update on your progress."

Harry nodded, felt Snape brush by him, heard him retrieve his cloak from the wall and shut the door behind him.

Harry did, indeed, begin writing down the things that were going through his head. He wouldn't exactly call them feelings, but they did seem to help ease his pain, as though the writing was an outlet for the jumble that was rattling around inside him. He even fire-called Hermione one night to ask her over to talk. He knew she would be the one that could listen, impartially, without trying to offer unsolicited advice. He told her about the book, and about his conversations with Snape. By the third time he had spoken with her, he was nearly done with the book and had filled two entire journals with his writing.

"You seem better, Harry," she had said, before she went home. "Really," she squeezed his shoulder, "I think this really is doing you some good."

The next day, he decided that it was time to tackle the inevitable. The first thing he did was go into the attic and take down the box of picture frames. He opened the box on the couch, but when he saw the first photo, he felt the air whoosh out of his chest like he'd been kicked in the gut. He dropped the photo back into the box and screwed his eyes shut, pressing his hands to the side of his head. He took several deep breaths and steeled himself before opening his eyes back up, picking up the photo again, turning around, and placing it back on the mantle where it belonged. He continued, frame by frame, room by room, until the box was empty. He had no idea how he made it through in one piece, but he felt a pronounced sense of relief when it was done.

He went into the bedroom to undertake the other task he knew had to be done. He got through half her clothes in the closet, packing them into a donation box, and then decided to take a break and work on the dresser. His eyes were drawn to a small, pink, glass bottle with a stopper: her perfume. He picked it up and raised it to his face. He slowly removed the stopper and inhaled the fragrance that wafted out. It hit him like a train at full speed. His hands shook nearly uncontrollably as he put the stopper back in and set the bottle back on the dresser; he barely registered his eyes prickling as the water filled them. He nearly fell over as he backed into the bed, where he sat down, tore off his glasses, buried his face in his hands, and was overcome with body-heaving sobs.

That was how Snape found him later that evening. He had knocked, but received no response. Sensing something was off, he let himself in, only to hear what sounded suspiciously like crying coming from upstairs. He didn't even bother to take off his cloak as he made his way up, following the sound to its source. On his way there, he catalogued the presence of the picture frames replaced around the house. The scene made complete sense as he entered the bedroom and found Harry hunched over, body wracked with convulsions, his hands completely wet with tears.

It was a statement of how immersed in grief Harry was that he didn't flinch when Snape sat down on the bed next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Harry didn't even open his eyes to see who it was, but turned instinctively into the welcome body and shifted so he could bury his head into the shoulder and wrap his arms around the person's back to cry uncontrollably. The presence of another person seemed to bring on a fresh round of tears, and Snape lost track of time as he held on to Harry, embracing him and resting his cheek on the top of Harry's head.

Finally, after what had surely been hours, Harry's sobs subsided. Realizing consciously now that someone was with him, he pulled back, expecting to see Ron, since he was very aware the person with him was male. He quickly dropped his hands and scooted several inches away, though, when he realized who it really was.

"Severus, I…" Harry was completely stunned. "I'm sorry," he apologized, staring at the enormous wet stain on the shoulder of Snape's cloak.

"Whatever for?" Snape asked.

"I didn't…know it was you," Harry shook his head.

"I'm sorry this distresses you," Snape replied sardonically.

"No," Harry hastily clarified, "I'm not…distressed…about you. I've just…I've ruined your cloak, and probably made you a bit uncomfortable."

Snape bit back a smirk, attempting sympathy – though being sympathetic towards Harry was almost a challenge. "You clearly don't remember, but I was the one chose to comfort you – you did not…attack me. And I'm reasonably sure my cloak will survive."

"I didn't hear you come in," Harry said, looking down at his hands.

"I surmised as much," Snape replied.

"I started…cleaning…her things…it was…her perfume," Harry managed to force out. "The smell of her, it…I don't know what it did to me, exactly."

"It unlocked the emotions you have been repressing for quite some time, Harry. Is this the first time you've cried for her?"

Harry looked up, stone-still. The use of his first name by Snape was something he could not remember ever happening. Ever. His brain finally registered that Snape had asked him a question.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Let me assure you, it will not be the last. But," Snape replied in a reassuring tone, "I believe this means you are well on your way to healing. Mrs. Weasley infoms me that your discussions with her have seemed to help you immensely. Have you been recording your thoughts?"

Harry nodded. "Did Hermione tell you what we talked about?" Harry felt he wouldn't really mind, but there was a twinge of annoyance that he hoped she had kept their talks private.

"No," Snape assured him, "only that you had talked, and she was pleased with the changes she could see in you. I must concur, the fact that you have replaced the pictures with Ginny throughout the house and attempted to go through her things is a monumental step. I would encourage you, however, to finish this task with the help of someone else. And certainly not this evening."

Harry nodded in assent.

"Shall we go downstairs?"

Harry stood and nodded again. They both went down into the kitchen.

"What do you say to a game of chess?" Snape suggested lightly. "Best two out of three?"

Harry managed a weak smile before summoning the chess board and game pieces.

It had been ten months since Ginny's death, and Harry finally felt as though things were working right. He didn't feel normal; he didn't think he ever would. He had registered the presence of a deep hole in his heart – a hole that felt like it had been dug there with a fire-hot poker – where Ginny should be. But he was having conversations with people again and seeing his friends and corresponding regularly with his children. And he was making it through long stretches of time without breaking down. In fact, he hadn't been on a real crying jag since Ginny's birthday, which had been several months ago. If he was truthful, there were even successive days where he woke up remembering she wouldn't be there next to him, and he was able to go through the day productively.

Snape's visits had begun to decrease in frequency, which Harry found, surprisingly, rather disappointing. In fact, it had been more than two weeks since he'd last seen him, and Harry found himself craving a reasonably intelligent conversation with someone other than Hermione, so he dropped down and poked his head in the Floo and tried Snape's quarter's at Hogwarts, hoping he would be there getting ready for the start of term, which was in just a few weeks.

"Severus?" Harry called through the flames. "Severus, are you home?"

Harry was just about to pull his head out and Owl him instead when he heard someone approach.

"Mr. Potter," Snape appeared in front of the fire. "To what do I owe this unexpected call?"

"Oh, well, it's been a while since we, well, since we talked, and, erm, I was wondering if you might, you know, want to, hang out?"

"Eloquent, as always, Mr. Potter," Snape remarked, resisting an eye roll. "You are welcome to bring your entire body here, if you so desire. To…'hang out'."

Harry smiled broadly, "Now?"

Snape raised his eyebrows with passive incredulity. "Yes," he decided on the short answer.

Harry's head disappeared, only to be replaced seconds later with his entire body stumbling out of the fireplace.

"I see your years of Quidditch have done wonders for your grace," Snape quipped.

Harry smirked and chuckled once. He looked around and found himself amazed at Snape's quarters. They seemed decorated well enough to be quite homey. "Wow!" He exclaimed, "This is a really nice place."

"Yes, well, I do live here ten months out of the year," Snape replied with an undercurrent of facetiousness as he made his way over to the couch. Harry followed him, but his attention was caught by a stack of papers on a desk a few feet away from the fireplace in front of a window.

"Am I interrupting?" Harry asked politely.

"Well," Snape spoke with feigned despair, "lesson planning is a scintillating task, but I think I can pull myself away for a short while."

Harry grinned as he sat down on the other end of the couch across from Snape.

"What year?" Harry asked.

"Third," Severus answered with a sigh, "truly painful. We will begin with Calming Draughts, but I am supremely confident I will find my efforts to be in vain."

Harry laughed out loud and Snape looked at him with an amused stare. Their conversation continued, moving on eventually from lamentable students to more sophisticated topics. At some point, Harry noticed a picture hung above the fireplace.

"Who is that?" He asked, his eyes directed at the frame.

"Hmm?" Snape followed his gaze. "Oh, that is Salazar Slytherin."

"Really?" Harry mused, getting up to go look at the picture of the man who had been, apparently, listening to their conversation for quite some time. "Hey! There's a snake in here!"

The portrait of Salazar rolled his eyes. "Perceptive, isn't he?" The former founder drawled. Snape chuckled.

The snake uncoiled out of Salazar's lap, its tongue flicking the air around it, as if it could still smell off the canvas.

"_Greetings, new one, what brings you to our quarters?"_

"Hey! The snake talks, too!" Harry exclaimed with excitement.

"_I am a friend of the Professor. I am just here to enjoy his company."_

"_The Professor seems to enjoy your company, new one. What is your name?"_

"_My name is Harry. What is yours?"_

"_Alameida. Have you known the Professor long?"_

"_Yes, many years."_

"_I enjoy when you make the Professor laugh."_

"_Me too," _Harry smiled_._

"_I enjoy when he makes you laugh as well."_

"_Me too," _Harry chuckled_._

"_The Professor does not laugh often enough," _Alameida stated with concern_._

"_No, I would not imagine he does."_

"_You should come more often, so he can laugh more."_

"_I will try," _Harry promised_._

Harry suddenly realized his legs were uncomfortably warm standing so near the fire, and he took a rather large step backwards, but bumped unexpectedly into Snape, who had gotten off the couch to stand behind Harry during the conversation with the painted snake. Harry let out a surprised, "Oh!" and made to step to the side, but tripped over one of Snape's feet and nearly tumbled to the ground before Snape caught him around the waist to prevent his fall. He pulled Harry up and in doing so, drew Harry's body into his, back to front. Suddenly, Harry was hyperaware of the intense warmth from Snape's body radiating into his back, and felt a pool of heat in his stomach that he was quite unprepared for. Both men froze.

Severus felt Harry's body falling and before he could think, he reflexively reached out his arm and grabbed the other man's waist to prevent him from toppling to the floor. As he pulled him up, he inadvertently drew Harry's body up against his, and suddenly became blindingly aware of the heat from Harry's back flowing into his own front. It was impossible to not notice Harry's toned midsection, no doubt from years of continued Quidditch. He felt a tightening in his stomach that he was quite unprepared for. Both men froze.

After the space of a heartbeat, Snape dropped his hand faster than lightning, and took an enormous step back from Harry. Harry felt him do so, and then turned around quite slowly to face him.

Face to face, their eyes met, and even though they were nearly three feet from each other, they felt as close as they had mere seconds before. Harry's back still burned from Severus' touch, and Snape could still feel the contours of Harry's body pressed up against him. The warm, tightened feeling in their stomachs had not subsided. In fact, it had spread further down and was joined by hammering of hearts and the feeling as though pancakes were being flipped in their stomachs while small birds flapped their wings in some un-choreographed dance.

"I should go."

"You should go."

They said simultaneously.

But neither one of them could move. They felt as though their legs had turned to cement and were permanently affixed to the ground.

Harry finally cleared his throat. "Until next time, then," he hedged, finding himself sincerely hoping there would be a next time. And soon. As he turned to the fireplace to Floo back home, he heard the snake from the portrait hiss to him.

"_See, the Professor likes you."_


	5. Chapter 5

_Mature content - read with discretion_

**Chapter 4**

_What the bloody hell was that?_ Severus threw his hand to his forehead as he started pacing on the living room rug the moment Harry's body had left the green Floo flames. He was incensed at his body for behaving in such an undisciplined manner. _Stop it,_ he commanded himself. _This is beyond ridiculous._ But, try as he might, he could not dismiss the feeling of Harry's body against his, the taut muscles as Harry had braced to fall over. _And the smell_ – he had noticed it back on the night when Harry had cried himself out against his chest, but it hadn't had this sort of impact on him. Harry smelled of fresh-cut wood, and grass, and wind, and sun, and _Stop it!_ he commanded himself.

Potter was attractive, there was no doubt about that. Anyone with eyes could see that, but there was no way Severus was attracted _to_ him. That was not possible. But Severus could not deny that there had been a surge of electricity – of energy – between them as Potter had turned around and their eyes locked. What in the world was going on? Severus racked his brain. Potter had been married, had three children. He was most certainly not gay. Or was he? Severus knew many of his gay friends had married to save themselves the trouble of coming 'out of the closet', as it were. Even though it might have proved easier for him, since he was attracted to women as well, he had never found another he was interested in after Lily, so Severus himself had opted for the other option – self-imposed celibacy. And now her son, Lily's son, was eliciting some sort of…ridiculous response from him. And even if Potter _were_ gay, there was no way – No Possible Way – that he would ever want…_Stop it!_

Severus stalked to his bedroom, grabbed a bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion from his nightstand, and downed it in one gulp, flinging himself onto the bed with much more theatrics than he would have thought himself capable of– clothes and all – and hoped fervently that when he awoke, this would all be forgotten.

Harry spun through the flames and stumbled out into his living room. _You Must Be Mad_, he was screaming at himself. He hadn't had feelings for another man since his early adolescent years, and when he had started seeing Ginny, he had never felt them again. He was straight now, for crying out loud! But his back still seared from Severus' heat. His stomach still clenched from the intensity of their stare. He could still feel the strength of the hand around his stomach, holding him tightly, in safety. Like they had the night of the perfume. He had felt so safe in Severus' arms that night, so comforted. He hadn't realized who it was at the time, of course, but that didn't change how it had made him feel. This was…this was…_unexpected_, he found the word in the back of his mind.

Harry hadn't seen Severus in over a week. The morning after, the feelings had all seemed much less real, but he wasn't sure he could trust himself if he were around Severus again anytime soon, and in any event, he had no idea how Severus felt about the incident. He was sure Severus had felt something – there was no mistaking the connection that had passed between them during that stare. But Harry didn't want to ruin what the two of them had forged over many, many years – and especially over the last several months, so he decided he would wait until Severus came to him.

After two more weeks, Harry was getting antsy. He decided to call on Hermione.

"Hermione?" Harry called out of the fire into her living room. "Hermione, are you there?"

He finally heard feet coming down the stairs.

"Harry?" Ron's face appeared. "What's up, mate?"

"Hey, Ron," Harry tried to be tactful. "I have to ask Hermione about something. I really need to talk to her. Is she home?"

Ron wasn't put off – he knew Harry had talked to Hermione a lot over the past few months and that it had really helped him, so Ron nodded, and went to get her.

Hermione swirled out of the flames into Harry's living room. Harry was already sitting on the couch, holding a piece of paper in one hand.

"Harry, what's wrong – are you all right? You look…agitated." She sat down next to him and took his free hand into her lap.

"Hermione, I have a problem."

She nodded encouragingly.

"I've…I've sort of…met someone." Harry was entirely unsure of how to get through this conversation, but years of practice with Hermione left him little doubt that she would make up for his lack of finesse.

"Met someone." She repeated. "Someone you…like." She said it as a statement, not a question.

Harry nodded.

"And this is a problem because…" she prompted.

"Well, I'm worried," Harry admitted.

"Worried because you think…it's too soon? After Ginny?"

"No," he paused, "_I_ don't think it's too soon."

"You're worried about the kids."

"No."

"You're worried other people might think it's too soon."

Harry shook his head.

"Do I know this person?" Harry could practically hear the whirring in her head.

Harry nodded.

"And, does this person know that you like them? I mean, is it mutual?"

"I'm not really sure, to be honest. We sort of started out as friends, but, we had this…moment the other night, and I felt something, but I'm not sure…" Harry trailed off.

"You're not sure if they did." Hermione confirmed.

Harry nodded.

"Harry," Hermione said with authority. "Please don't bite my head off, but…is it Severus?"

Harry's eyes flew open in shock. "What?"

Hermione sat stoically.

"I…I…" Harry sputtered, shaking his head in disbelief. "How do you _know_ stuff like that? How?"

Hermione managed one of her trademark smiles she always wore when she was trying not to make people feel stupid or inferior.

"Harry, I've seen the way you look at him. The way you've looked at him ever since the battle was over. And what's more, I've seen the way he looks at you. You've just never looked at each other. At the same time." She sighed.

"The way _I_ look at _him_?"

"Oh, Harry, even Ginny knew. She knew about all the times in school, with the other boys, before you two got together. She always hoped she would be enough for you – that she would be the one you chose. And then when Severus…when you finally learned the truth. She was so worried that she would never be enough. Harry, the attraction between you two is almost palpable. That's why he never stands closer than twenty feet to you. It drives him mad."

"Read this," Harry thrust Ginny's letter into Hermione's hands. "Read it. Is that what she meant?"

Hermione scanned the letter. She looked up at Harry, pity in her eyes. "Yes. That's exactly what she meant. She hoped that if anything ever happened to her, you and Severus would finally figure it out and do something about it."

"And you're sure? You're absolutely positive he feels this way? That…that _I_ feel this way?"

"Harry, of all the people in this world, aside from Ginny, or Professor Dumbledore, and maybe Ron, I know you the best. In fact, I'm reasonably sure I know you better than you know yourself." She smiled apologetically.

"You're probably right," he conceded. "He hasn't talked to me…since it happened."

"Well, you know how he is – he plays things close to the vest. He's not going to do anything – you _will_ have to make the first move. But, if what you say is true, it won't catch him by surprise." She paused, and then continued, "Well, maybe a little surprise. I doubt he knows about your other…preferences," she finished, slightly embarrassed by her lack of political correctness. "Harry, if any two people can work this out, it's you two. You're practically the same person."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "We are not!"

Hermione let out a genuine laugh this time. "Oh, Harry, for being such a great Seeker, you are really _so_ blind!" She patted his hand, then stood up and kissed his cheek before making her way back to the Floo to go home.

Harry sat, dumbfounded, on his couch for quite a while after Hermione left. He was conflicted. How was it possible that he had not known this? That his own wife had known this – for over twenty years – and not said anything? That one of his best friends had known this and not said anything? It was mad. It was absolutely bloody mad. But Severus had helped him so much over the last several months. It was impossible to deny that there was a connection – perhaps there was something deeper than friendship – something much deeper.

_Hands, sliding over his body; sweat, beading up on his chest; a mouth, kissing him everywhere, everywhere…it felt so good…like heaven…the tongue, making its way down, down his chest, toward his navel, down further, so close, he felt the tightening, the heat…he looked down at the green eyes beneath the dark hair, staring at him in the dark…_

It was the third time this week Severus had woken up to that dream, hard as a rock. He reached his hands up and wiped the inevitable sweat off of his face. He picked up his watch – three o'clock in the morning. _Wonderful_. How enjoyable it was going to be to take a cold shower at three o'bloody clock in the morning. But he would never get back to sleep with this ridiculous hard on, so he swung himself out of bed and headed into the shower. This was getting ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous, this was completely out of control.

::

Harry had woken up from the same dream every night for the last four nights. His body, writhing under someone else's, devastated by pleasure, and not until the very end, in the seconds before he exploded and woke up wet, did he see who it was – the black eyes and long black hair, staring at him. It was a bloody brilliant dream. He had to do something about it.

"Severus," Harry called from the fire. "Severus? I have to speak to you." Harry knew Severus was there; school had already started and classes would be done for the day. He supposed Severus might have a staff meeting, but he doubted it.

"Harry Potter, sir?" Harry found himself staring at a house elf.

"Yes. Um, is Professor Snape in his quarters?"

"No, sir, the Professor is out. Would you like to wait for him inside?"

"Do you think he would mind?"

"You are a friend of the Professor and of Hogwarts. I do not think he will mind."

"All right then." Harry backed out of the fireplace and Floo'd in properly. As he spun out of the fire, he found himself face to face with the portrait of Salazar Slytherin and his snake.

"_Harry,"_ the snake hissed. _"You have been gone a very long time. The Professor has not laughed since you left. He has been most quiet."_

"_Is he well?"_ Harry inquired, worried.

"_Yes, and no. He talks to himself late at night – he seems…conflicted. He has not been sleeping well."_

"_Do you know what's wrong?"_

"_I think it is because you have not been here to make him laugh,"_ Alameida said somberly. _"The Professor likes you. In many ways. I saw the way he looked at you before you left. I have never seen him look that way at another. But it is the way some of the students look at each other in the corridors. The ones who hold each other's hands. And sometimes kiss."_

"_The students? You go to other portraits and see students?"_

"_I do. Sometimes I get restless."_

"_I can understand."_

"_Especially lately. The Professor has been so quiet."_ The snake lifted his head. "_Speaking of the Professor…" _

Harry turned around just as he heard the voice, low, silken, and clearly incensed, from behind him – several paces away.

"Mr. Potter, where and when have you ever been given the impression that you could invite yourself into my quarters, unannounced, and talk to my portraits?"

"I'm sorry, Severus, your house elf assured me I could wait here for you. Your snake and I were just having a pleasant conversation while I waited."

"I have business to attend to this evening. You will hopefully not be offended when I request that you please leave."

"Of course, Severus, but – could you tell me when we _could_ find some time to talk? I really need to talk to you."

"I am not sure I will have any available time in the foreseeable future. Now please go."

Harry heard hissing behind him, but it was too soft to pick up what the snake had said.

"Severus, really, Alameida insists that you invite your guest to stay. I am inclined to support his request."

"Salazar, I do not particularly care to what you are inclined. Potter, I will not ask you again. Go. Now."

This time, Harry heard the snake loud and clear.

"_Professor!"_

Severus didn't need a translation for that. He huffed dramatically. "Fine! What is it you wish to discuss with me?"

"I…well…" Harry stammered.

"Spit it out," Severus ground out.

"Could we at least sit down?" Harry asked.

"Fine." Severus moved over to the sitting chair, leaving it up to Harry to choose the remaining armchair or the couch. Harry moved to the couch and perched himself on the edge of a cushion.

"Severus, I wanted to talk about the other night. When I was here."

"Well, I do not. I see no reason for you to waste any more of your time. Or mine."

"Severus, please. It's important to me that we talk about this. It's important that I don't lose your friendship. It means the world to me."

Severus stared blankly. Harry took his silence to mean he should continue. He felt his heart hammering and the birds were back flapping in his stomach. He prayed that Hermione was right.

"Well, I wanted you to know that I felt something that night. When you kept me from falling over you."

"I should hope so," Severus scathed, "otherwise you would have been feeling the floor."

"No, I didn't mean your…body. I meant after I turned around, once we were apart. When we looked at each other. And I'm pretty sure you felt it, too."

"Really, Mr. Potter? Because if I remember correctly, you did not do particularly well in Divination, and you have not – to my knowledge – ever studied Legilimency. So how could you possibly claim to know what I did, or did not, feel?"

"I just, I wanted you to know that…even though I was married to Ginny, even though we had children...I…" Harry wondered where his Gryffindor courage was at this point. "I'm attracted to men, too."

"Well," Severus replied tersely, "thank you for baring your soul to me. I feel ever so much better. Now, please leave."

"Severus, stop it!" Harry demanded. "I know you well enough to see when you use your sarcasm to mask your discomfort. I'm not some schoolboy anymore. Don't try to redirect me. And don't ignore me."

_Damn it,_ Severus thought, _he's_ _right. And maybe if I get it off my chest the infernal dreams will stop._

"Pot – Harry," Severus shook his head in defeat. "Even if I felt what you are describing about that night, it would not matter. I do not intend to take advantage of your current situation. I do not believe it would do either of us any good."

Harry was perplexed. "My…situation?"

Severus closed his eyes and willed himself not to make a sarcastic remark. "I am referring, Harry, to the fact that your wife died less than a year ago, and that you had some serious difficulties coming to terms with that. I do not think it wise for you to enter into a…relationship…of any kind right now. Regardless of whom that person might be."

Harry stifled a laugh, "You think…I'm on some sort of…of rebound?"

"I'm not sure there is a technical term for it, but, I suppose that would do. I worry that your emotions are in no way stable enough for you to be making sound decisions about whom you become involved with. I would hate for you – or the other person involved – to wind up worse off than when you started."

"But – you're not some stranger I met in a bar – I've known you for more than half my life. And several people, apparently, including Ginny, claim there has been some sort of sexual tension between us for years. She practically begged me to realize my feelings for you once she was gone. She wrote it to me in a letter before she died."

Snape's eyebrows nearly touched his hairline.

"Really, Severus, everyone claims that's why you refuse to stand closer than about twenty feet to me whenever we're around each other."

"That…I…absurd…" Severus stammered.

"Eloquent as always," Harry replied with a smirk. "Really, are you trying to tell me you're not attracted to me? That you didn't feel the energy between us that night?"

"Potter," Severus snapped back, "even a blind man could find you attractive. It may have escaped your notice, given your penchant for self-absorption, but after fourth year, you didn't turn heads merely because of your scar."

"So you do find me attractive," Harry confirmed, feeling more confident than he had all evening. "Because I most definitely find you attractive. I always have. I've always admired you since…well, since I saw the events in the pensive during the battle. And for some reason I am not at all surprised that you find women attractive as well as men. And certainly not that you found not just my mother, but her son attractive as well. I do have her eyes."

"Stop that this instant," Snape hissed. Those eyes had made a few too many appearances in his dreams as of late. "You finding me attractive, however unwarranted that conclusion may be, is irrelevant. Even if – and I am in no way confirming anything you have spouted off tonight in what I am sincerely hoping is a fit of derangement – even if what you are suggesting is true, I firmly believe that your current situation is not in a fit state to enter any sort of new…relationship – physical, emotional, or otherwise."

"I disagree," Harry countered, and held up a hand to stem Severus' rising comment. "But I understand. If you could just tell me one thing: could we at least resume our friendship? Start spending time together again, like it was before?"

Severus took an exceptionally long time to frame his answer.

"Mr. Potter," he began, "I cannot deny that my interactions with you, most especially over the last several months, have been most illuminating and – I might even go so far as to say – enjoyable. I find myself intrigued by the fact that we seem to have more in common that I had ever previously thought. I must admit that I appreciate your coming here tonight to ease whatever…tensions…had arisen between us as a result of our last encounter. And, assuming you understand my reservations and restrictions, I would not be averse to continuing our _friendship_ for the time being."

Harry snorted a laugh. "You could have just said yes, Sev."

He was rewarded with a glare that would have scalded a first year – and maybe even a second year.

"I'll see you next weekend, then," Harry said as he stood up. "I fancy another round of chess."

Harry had one foot in the flames when the snake hissed at him again.

"_I told you he likes you."_

"_Yes, Alamieda, and I like him, too."_


	6. Chapter 6

_Mature content - read with discretion_

**Chapter 5**

Harry didn't think it wise to show up unannounced again in Severus' quarters, so he had owled Neville and asked him to meet at the Hogwarts gates Saturday evening at seven.

"Harry!" Neville cried as he approached the gates. "So good to see you!"

"Hey Neville," Harry smiled as he entered the grounds, Neville recasting the enchantments before they headed up to the castle.

"So, what brings you back to Hogwarts?" Neville asked as they reached the doors of the Great Hall.

"I'm here to meet with Professor Snape," Harry replied to the astonishment of his friend.

"Snape? Really? Ok," he said warily.

"We've actually become…friends…over the past few months. He's really helped me to deal with Gi-Ginny's death," Harry stuttered slightly over the name.

"Well, that's great. Glad you're getting better. Say," Neville asked, "Do you know where his quarters are? I could walk you there."

"That'd be wonderful, Neville – I actually have no clue where he lives," and both men chuckled as they made their way through the castle.

Neville had wished him well before leaving a very nervous Harry outside Severus' door. Taking a deep breath, Harry knocked on the wood. He was about to repeat his actions when he heard movement behind the door.

"Yes?" came the muffled voice.

"Severus, it's me, Harry," he called out.

The door opened to reveal Severus in a plain white buttoned shirt and black trousers. His hair was pulled back, something Harry had never seen. He had a fleeting thought that it made Severus that much more attractive. His musing was cut short, though, with Severus' words.

"Mr. Potter? I don't recall us having an appointment this evening, is something wrong?" Severus had made no move to invite Harry inside. In fact, he seemed to be using the door as some sort of shield.

"Wrong?" Harry was puzzled. "No, nothing's wrong. I told you I'd see you this weekend, before I Floo'd home. It's the weekend," Harry stated bluntly.

"Your powers of observation astound me," Severus rolled his eyes.

"Might I come in?" Harry asked.

Severus looked like every bone in his body wanted to say no, but he overruled it and sighed, "Yes," as he opened the door wider for Harry to enter. He led them to the sitting room. "Brandy?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow at Harry.

"That would be great, thanks," Harry agreed with a smile.

Severus got out his wand and conjured the necessary items, handing one glass to Harry and keeping the other for himself. Harry sat down on one end of the couch and Severus stood between one of the sitting chairs and Harry, eyes darting back and forth as if deciding where he should sit. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh for goodness sake, Sev, I'm not going to bite you, sit down on the couch."

Severus lost the internal war and sat as far as he possibly could from Harry on the opposite end of the sofa. Harry tried to drag conversation out of a reticent Severus for a while before asking to use the loo. Severus indicated the general direction and Harry made his way to relieve himself. On his way back to the couch, he could see the back of Severus' form where he sat. He noticed that with the hair pulled back, he could really see Severus' neck. It was long, slender, and pale. _Lovely_, _really_, Harry thought to himself. As he made his way closer to his seat, he paused behind Severus and let his fingertips graze just a few inches of skin slightly above Severus' collar. He felt Severus tense and heard the other man's breath hitch.

"You should pull your hair back more often," Harry suggested. "The effect is nice." He finished walking around the couch and sat back down – much closer to Severus than he had been previously.

"Perhaps you should go," Severus let out in a stilted, uncomfortable tone.

"But it's still early!" Harry protested. He let out a huff, "Look, I'm sorry if touching your neck made you uncomfortable. I won't do it again." He paused. "Unless you ask me to," he tried to keep the hope out of his voice.

"What part of the word _friendship_ has escaped your overwhelming intellectual capacity?" Severus spat out dangerously.

"We can still be friends," Harry drew his brow together in confusion. "Why would we have to stop being friends just because we're attracted to each other?"

"Mr. Potter, I am not attracted to you!" Severus spluttered out.

"You said you were; you said anyone with eyes would find me attractive. And you have eyes. Lovely eyes."

"I will not…I cannot…good God, man, you are still in mourning! Would you stop flirting with me?" Severus pled forcefully.

Harry gave him a look of incredulity. "In mourning? This is still about me being fragile? Tell me, Severus, is there some sort of time limit you've placed on this 'grieving process' I'm going through? I'd like to know what an appropriate amount of time is so that I know when I can resume having human feelings."

"Of course I don't have a set time limit – everyone…people take their own time…you should take your time…" he trailed off as Harry settled a hand on his knee.

"Exactly. Everyone heals on their own time. I'm not fragile, Severus. I'm not going to break. Just tell me you don't want me. Tell me now, and I'll stop. Tell me 'no', and I'll never mention it again, I swear. Don't worry about my emotions, I just need to know yours. If you can swear to me that you don't think about me –that you don't want me that way, I'll leave this instant."

Severus' mouth was dry, but he could not find the ability to swallow.

"Can you, Severus? Can you say those words?" Harry rubbed tiny circles with his thumb on Severus' thigh, right above his knee.

Defeated, all Severus could do was close his eyes and give a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.

Harry stood up abruptly. "Then it seems to me that we're really dealing with more of your own time table, not mine." And with that, he let his hand trace down the side of Severus' face and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. He made his way back over to the fireplace and turned around once before he left. Severus had not reopened his eyes and his hand was clenched into a fist so tightly his knuckles were white. Harry shook his head and made to step into the flames.

"_Where are you going, Harry?"_ Alameida asked him.

"_Home,"_ Harry answered. _"The Professor is not ready for me yet."_

"_The Professor needs you,"_ the snake insisted.

"_I know,"_ Harry smiled sadly. _"I need him too. He just doesn't see it yet."_

"_Good bye, Harry. Please come back soon,"_ Alameida hissed.

"_When I can,"_ Harry promised. And with that, he swirled away into the green fire.

::

Harry had tried to not think about Severus – he really had, but his dreams continued to wake him up with a hard-on at the best of times and in a pool of his own semen at the worst of times. He wasn't surprised that he hadn't heard from the man, but he was beginning to get irritated at the cowardice Severus seemed to be showing. One Monday evening, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Severus?" Harry's head called from the fire into the Professor's Hogwarts quarters. "Severus, dammit, where are you?"

"Harry Potter, sir?" The house elf that had previously given Harry permission to wait for Severus in his quarters was face to face with Harry.

"Oh, hello. Is the Professor here?" Harry asked as politely as he could.

"Oh, no sir. And I has a message for you. He says, 'Mr. Potter, I have much business to attend to and do not know when my schedule will allow for any company. I will contact you when I am able.'"

"Really," Harry stated. "Well, you can tell him you delivered the message to me. But tell him this, too: 'You are an insufferable git.'"

"I is not sure I can say that to the Professor, Mr. Potter, sir." The house elf had begun to wring its hands in obvious discomfort.

"Fine," Harry conceded, "but you can certainly tell him that I will, under no circumstances, wait for an Owl from him. Tell him to expect one from me by the end of the week."

"This I can do!" The house elf nodded. "Thank you, Harry Potter, sir! A good evening to you!"

Harry muttered an obligatory response and pulled his head from the fire.

_Insufferable git_, Harry thought to himself, _this calls for heavy artillery._

By Thursday evening, Harry had planned out what he was going to do and had enlisted Ron and Hermione's willing help. He had some back-up plans ready to go, but he hoped he wouldn't need them. He sat down to pen an Owl to Severus before he retired for the evening.

_Severus,_

_I had intended to begin my correspondence to you with an overly sarcastic remark about how childish it is to play the avoidance game. I decided, however, that I wanted you to read past the first line, and so have opted to not use that particular opening. I want to acknowledge your apprehensions about my 'precarious emotional state,' I believe you labeled it. I certainly do not discount your reservations, nor do I wish to make you feel as though I do. I do, however, feel you owe me the respect to know myself and what I need, and want, given that I am an adult. In a few weeks, the one-year anniversary of Ginny's death will be here, and I am hoping that can be a marker for my emotional status. I am offering this compromise: if I make it through the anniversary without any breakdowns or psychotic episodes, then we start spending time together again. I believe this is a more than fair bargain, and one you ought to consider with sincere thought._

_Harry_

Harry called to Whitmore, his owl, and attached the letter to his leg. "For Severus – at Hogwarts," he said to the gray, fluffy bird, and after it flew out the window, Harry made his way up to bed.

He was not surprised that he received no reply for nearly a week. The next Thursday afternoon, however, a handsome, tawny owl flew into his office with a letter attached to its leg. Recognizing it immediately as a Hogwarts bird, Harry felt a jolt of excitement that he immediately forced himself to temper as he unrolled the paper, not wanting to be disappointed – or irritated, the latter being much more likely.

_Mr. Potter,_

_I will give it due consideration. And I did not label your current emotional state as 'precarious.' You have clearly failed to recall that I merely suggested it was unstable. While I understand this makes it sound as though you have some sort of volatile psychological problem, I do not need another Owl to remind me that the only mental issues you have are strictly related to being a perpetually inane Gryffindor._

_Professor Snape_

Harry snorted. At least he could continue with Plan A – for now.

The next few weeks were spent with Ron and Hermione planning, although with Hermione's efficiency they really only needed a few days. With one week remaining until the anniversary, Harry sent out invitations.

::

Severus didn't recognize the post Owl that pecked at the door that evening, so he let it in without trepidation. He puzzled as he took the envelope from the bird – it seemed to be an invitation of some sort.

_Professor Severus Snape_

_Potions Master_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Severus slid open the envelope flap and pulled out the parchment.

_You are invited to attend a celebration of life in honor of Ginny Potter this Saturday, at the household of Harry Potter. Festivities to begin at 2pm and last into the night. Please send RSVP by Wednesday to Mr. & Mrs. Ronald Weasley in Sussex._

_Your gracious hosts, the Potter and Weasley families._

Severus stared at the paper, reading it again before his brain started working again. This was most unexpected. He immediately decided that he was irritated – affronted – at what was a blatant attempt to get him to capitulate to Potter's passing fancy with him. He wished nothing more than to throw the invitation into the fire. At the last moment, he thought better of it and pulled open a drawer in the desk and shoved it inside. He would most definitely NOT be in attendance at this…this farce of a celebration. Who _celebrated_ the death of their wife, anyway?

Severus tried not to think about the invitation that week – he really did, but it kept nagging at the back of his mind. He was trying to unravel it, like a puzzle. Part of him wanted to acquiesce and go, just to spite the brat, but he did not relish the thought of acting the fool – or being desperately uncomfortable. And one of, if not more likely both, those things would happen if he were there.

He was disturbed Thursday evening by the sound of someone's head in his fire.

"Professor Snape," the voice called. It sounded familiar, but in the Floo, you could never be really sure who it was. He made his way over to see the caller.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione's head was bobbing in the flames.

"Yes, do you think I could pop in for just a minute? I have something quite urgent to discuss with you."

Taken aback, Severus replied without thinking, "Of course." A soon as her head disappeared, he inwardly cringed. Of course she had something urgent to discuss.

A moment later, Hermione was spinning out of the Floo and onto his hearth.

"Professor," she said in greeting. Severus nodded warily in return. "Do you think we might sit down?"

"Mrs. Weasley, I really must insist that this discourse be quite short – I do have work begging to be done."

"I understand, Professor," she said sincerely. Severus motioned for her to sit in one of the armchairs. He took the opposing chair. He waited for her to speak.

"I haven't received your RSVP to our celebration for this Saturday."

"I am aware of this," he replied blandly.

Hermione appraised him with a calculating look he wouldn't have credited her to have possessed. "I'm sure it must have slipped your mind, what with all the pressing work you have to complete," she stated evenly.

"No, Mrs. Weasley, it has not. I have no intention of attending this gathering, which is precisely why I have not sent you a message confirming my presence."

"Busy, are you?" She asked coldly. If she had still been a student, he would have taken points for her attitude. Even so, he was still sorely tempted.

"As it happens, I am not. I am simply exercising my right to refuse attendance."

"Why?" She said tersely.

"Because I do not wish to go," Severus sighed with losing patience. "If that is all, I really must be getting back to work."

"No it is most certainly not all!" Hermione nearly shouted. Severus was unable to completely hide the widening of his eyes at her emotional outburst. "Unless you have a good reason not to be there – and by good," she forestalled Severus' attempt to interrupt, "I mean a prior engagement, which you have already told me does not exist, you had better bloody well drag your arse there!"

"Might I suggest you watch your tone, Mrs. Weasely?" Severus said with an undercurrent of venom.

"You might. See if it does you any good." Severus had no response for that. There was a brief silence.

"Look," Hermione continued, more cordially, "this is important to Harry. It's important to all of us. We've invited anyone who is part of our family, anyone who is a friend. Professor, we've counted you as a friend for over twenty years. Harry counts you as a friend. Your absence will not only be noticed, but interpreted quite badly."

"I believe it will merely serve to reinforce a point I am trying to make to Mr. Potter."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said with distaste.

"I am not being ridiculous," Severus began to heat up. "I am fully aware that Mr. Potter is using this gathering as pretense for a discussion we have been having for quite some time now. I refuse to let it be that. It is insulting – to me, and to his wife's memory."

Hermione's eyes threw daggers. "The only thing that is insulting," she spat with uncharacteristic disdain, "is that you are intent on making this about yourself, when it has absolutely nothing to do with you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Severus retorted, incensed. The idea that she could think this wasn't about him and Potter's attempt to seduce him just went to show how woefully informed the woman was about her friend's intentions.

"Don't I?" she crossed her arms. "Professor, I am the person to whom Harry has always come to with problems. _Always_. With Ron, with Ginny, with anyone else whom he quarreled. It has always been me. Do not delude yourself into thinking that his relationship with you escapes that."

Had he not been so wretchedly irate, he would have marveled at her ability to sound remarkably like himself. As it was, he flushed, "I do not know what he has told you, but there is certainly no relationship between us."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course there is. You're friends. At the very least. And it will hurt him, his children, me, and the rest of our family if you are not there. And I believe that Ginny would tear you a new arsehole, too, if she could."

He glared petulantly.

"You _will_ be there. You will stay until _I_ tell you it is acceptable to leave. You will not put on a display of churlishness or any other petty behavior. Do we understand each other?"

"And when have I ever given you the impression that I would yield to demands such as these?"

She stood up with a measured stare and said forcefully, "When you didn't die." And with that, she stepped into the Floo and was gone.

Severus had managed to arrive what he deemed to be 'fashionably late' to the celebration, and had hung on the periphery, as was his custom at gatherings such as these. Hermione kept eyeing him to make sure he toed the line with his behavior, but he soon realized that she had been right. This was _not_ about him. Harry barely even spoke two words to him after he had shaken his hand and thanked him for coming. This didn't insult Severus; it was routine behavior for when he was invited to these sorts of events. But this gave him time to watch. And he watched Harry all night – when he wasn't watching Hermione stare back at him – and noticed how Harry looked. Harry looked healthy. The bags under his eyes were gone; the gaunt look that had pervaded his aura for so many months following the accident had disappeared. In fact, he was laughing most of the night – at stories about Ginny, about Harry and Ginny, about Ginny and the children. By the end of the evening Severus was quite perturbed that he now actually felt he owed it to Harry to consider his request. He doubted it would change anything, but perhaps he could at least ponder it – just to say he had done it.

People finally started to file out, late into the evening. He made eye contact with Hermione once about half the guests were gone, and she nodded tersely, giving her permission for him to leave. He snorted in his head. Hermione giving _him_ permission. Lovely. He was already out the front door, on his way towards the edge of the wards when he heard someone rushing out behind him.

"Severus!" he heard Harry call. Severus turned around, his coat on one arm. "Look, I…I wanted to thank you. For coming. It meant a lot. And I just wanted to say that…well, that I hope I haven't gone and mucked things up too badly – between us. Your friendship – it's important to me. I just wanted to let you know that."

Severus shrugged the other sleeve of his coat onto his arm. He gave Harry a tight nod. He felt an absurd need to fill the void between them with something. "Tonight was…well done. She would have been…quite pleased. And I'm…glad I came. That I was invited. It meant a lot to me, too. Good evening."

He didn't hear Harry go back inside as he walked to the edge of the yard to Apparate away, but Harry didn't say anything else before Severus turned on the spot and was gone.

_Severus was lying on his back staring at the sky. It was a beautiful day, he noted absently. His attention was more focused on the person next to him. This person was close enough to him that their arms were touching, and the fingers next to him were tracing patterns lightly on the skin on the back of his hand. It felt so pleasant. Severus felt a breeze and realized they were in some sort of field. He looked to his left, away from the person, and saw tall grass and an array of colored flowers sprinkled about. He began to notice a solid feeling in the center of his stomach – a feeling of utter contentment, something he couldn't ever remember feeling before. He was avidly aware that this feeling was entirely due to the person beside him. Ahhh, he remembered, he had had this dream before. It was always Lily Evans next to him, her green eyes bright with laughter. He turned his head to look at her, this person who made him feel so utterly __right__. He barely had time to register that this time, the startlingly green eyes stared back at him from behind round glasses and below dark, tangled hair before starting awake, bathed in a cold sweat._

Severus scowled into the pitch black of his room, fingers clenching the sheets as though he meant to do them serious harm.

_Un-fucking-believable. Seriously._

Harry decided he had waited long enough. Two weeks had passed since the party, and he had not heard from Severus. _The man was impossible_, he shook his head internally. He decided to confront the dragon. It wasn't time for Plan B – not quite yet. He seriously didn't want to pull that out of the arsenal.

He skipped the pretense of etiquette and simply Floo'd himself into Severus' quarters one Tuesday afternoon when he'd finished work early. He knew Severus would be teaching, and decided to make himself at home on the couch, conjuring some wine and a book he'd been reading for the past few days. He heard the house elf come through, to check on the intruder, but if it was surprised, it didn't say anything. It was a testament to how non-nervous Harry was that he was able to lose track of time, and he started, his book falling into his lap and flopping closed, as the door shut in the hallway behind him. He quickly removed his leg from the couch where it had been since he sat down. He was pretty sure the conversation would go even worse if Severus discovered he'd had his shoes on the sofa. He also knew that it wouldn't mitigate Severus' anger if he turned around and began the conversation, so he remained facing the fire, acutely aware of the waves of fury rolling off the body behind him when it entered the living room.

"Do you have a death wish?" Severus' voice was low, measured, and unmistakably filled with thinly controlled rage. "As a rule, I usually hex intruders in my quarters."

Without turning to face him, Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even. "Then perhaps you should have invited me in."

Severus swished around the side of the couch in a blinding instant. Still in his teaching robes, he did manage to present quite an intimidating picture: wand out – though his arms were crossed – glaring over the arm of the couch at Harry. Harry finally turned to look at him.

"If I _wanted_ you here, I would have done so." Severus' voice had not lost its animosity.

"This is absurd," Harry finally gave in to an eye roll. "Sit down, Severus."

"These are _my_ quarters! I shall stand if I wish."

Harry cocked his head to the side and gave Severus a look that clearly said, _'Really? Are you __really__ going to be such a prick?'_

Severus wanted to huff in frustration, but decided he wouldn't give Harry the pleasure. He stalked over to the nearest armchair and sat down, wand away, but arms still folded tightly across the chest.

"What do you want?" Severus ground out.

"To talk," Harry said simply.

"About what? Pray tell?" Severus said, clearly believing he already knew the answer.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry mused, "how are your classes going? Did you have any luck with the Calming Draughts with the third years? How is the next generation of Weasleys managing to terrorize the school now?"

Severus was caught off guard. Was Harry serious? Was this some sort of mockery? A trap?

"What, you do still teach, right? Are there any students this year who are not 'insufferable dunderheads'?"

"Wha…hm. I suppose there may be a select few who possess some modicum of talent and potential," Severus grudged.

"When do you know?" Harry asked, truly interested. "When can you tell if a student has an aptitude for your subject? For school in general, really?"

Severus thought about it for a moment, "Usually by the end of the first week."

"Of the first year?" Harry was incredulous. "Surely you give them longer than that to prove themselves!"

"It may be difficult to believe, Mr. Potter, but students rarely start out poor and improve. It is usually the other way around. They endeavor to make their first impressions favorable, and then go downhill. If the best they have to offer is in the first week, it is easy to see where they are likely to end up. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule, but they are rare."

"Hmm," Harry mused. "But don't they, I mean, as they get older, learn more, don't they get better? I mean, surely there have to be students that you think are going to be awful, but by third or fourth year manage to be decent."

"You mean like Longbottom? The greatest achievement he managed was failing his O.W.L.S. and dropping my course. Or yourself, perhaps? As I am aware, the only improvement you showed in my subject was when you began using others' brainpower instead of your own. Not a strong support to the point you are trying to make."

Harry had to concede on that one.

Their conversation continued, Harry deftly maneuvering it around topics he knew would keep Severus' interest – current personal potions projects, the Ministry, other professors. In the back of his mind, Harry was quite smug about the whole thing – it was back to how it used to be, the comfortable companionship, the awkwardness gone. Before he knew it, Harry was unable to suppress a yawn.

Severus glanced at the clock. "I didn't realize it had gotten so late."

"Me either. Well, I'm sorry to have kept you so long from your duties. I'm sure you have papers to grade and hallways to stalk." Harry stood up and made his way over to the fireplace.

"I do, but I'm not," Severus paused, "sorry. I'm not sorry you kept me. Or that you came at all, for that matter. Much as I am loathed to admit it, our conversation was pleasantly enjoyable and mostly devoid of discomfort."

"Mostly?" Harry inquired.

"Well, you try coming home to someone sitting, unexpected, on your couch and see how comforted you are."

Harry nodded, "Sorry 'bout that."

Severus waved it off. "I shouldn't have let it come to that."

"No," Harry agreed, "you shouldn't have. Please tell me things are going to be all right now, Severus, between us. I was wrong to push you on the feelings thing. If you don't want it – for whatever reason – well, I'd rather have a great friendship with you than nothing at all."

Feeling amusingly grown up, Severus replied, "So would I, Mr. Potter, so would I. Next time, however, I believe we should pencil our meeting into our schedules."

Harry smiled as he put one foot into the fire after the powder had turned it green. "Don't think I'll forget that."

Severus cocked his head to the side and allowed himself a smirk, "I'm terribly sure you will not."

And with that, Harry was gone.

_For the love of all that was holy_, Severus thought to himself, _if I have another blasted dream tonight, I'm going to have to – what was the Muggle phrase? – oh yes, shoot myself._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Severus was sitting behind his desk in his classroom, tidying up before he headed back to his quarters before dinner. It had been over a month since Harry had forcibly reinstated their meetings, which had happened roughly once a week since the surprise visit. He was pleased Harry hadn't brought up the subject of becoming romantically involved again, or done anything else other than make pleasant conversation. Every once in a while, when they would play chess, Severus would catch Harry looking at him with a strange look in his eye, but it was always gone in an instant, so he could never quite figure out what it was. Much as he didn't want to admit it, he began looking forward to their encounters, much like he had back when they'd started last year. But he wasn't thinking about Harry at the present moment, he was thinking about the headache reducing potion he was going to have to take after grading the latest round of essays from the week. It was no wonder most of the professors had no spouses or children – they would suffer sorely from neglect given the amount of grading and other related work the teachers were expected to do. He was resigned to his fate and made to push his chair back to get up when he heard a soft knock at the door.

"Professor?" A familiar, blond-haired face poked through the open doorframe.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Severus was genuinely surprised. "To what do I owe this most unexpected visit?"

"Might I come in?" Draco asked.

Severus nodded and scooted his chair back into his desk. Draco walked up and grabbed a chair on his way, set it down across from Severus and sat. _Not a short chat, then_, Severus thought, and waved his wand to shut and lock the door.

"How can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?" Severus inquired. While it was not rare to correspond with Draco, it was unusual for him to visit Severus at Hogwarts. _This must be important to the man_, Severus decided.

"Well, actually, I've come to talk some sense into you," Draco began, looking resigned.

"Pardon?" Severus asked, leaning forward in his chair, propping his elbows on the desktop.

"Well, to try, anyway – I don't know what makes anyone think I'll be successful. Apparently, I'm 'Plan B'."

"Speaking in code doesn't work well for me," Severus narrowed his eyes, beginning to realize what this discussion was going to be about – _or __not__ going to be about_ – Severus decided, thinking of ways to end the conversation immediately.

"Well, I'm the only one left," Draco conceded.

"The only one left?" Severus rethought his decision – perhaps this was not about Potter.

"Yes, well, the only two people who were ever able to have any sort of effect on you were my father and Dumbledore. Seeing as how my father is…disinclined…and Dumbledore dead, neither is really an option. I'm here in their stead."

"To do what, precisely?" Severus was wary again.

"Again, to talk some sense into you. If Dumbledore was here, he'd be raking you over the coals. I'm not going to be nearly as good at it as he always was, but I've got to try."

"Well, whatever it is, spit it out," Severus demanded, "I've things to do."

"Stop being stupid," Draco said bluntly.

"Such tact," Severus said coolly.

"Really, it's driving everyone crazy. Not just Potter."

_Of course. Silly me, thinking it was something legitimate. It is __always__ about Potter._

"Mr. Malfoy, I assure you, this conversation will not end well for you. I suggest you leave. Now."

"Look, Severus, I'm not going to beat around the bush. It's high time someone put you in your place. I may not be as skilled at it as my father or Dumbledore, but I sure as hell am going to try. It would be easier if I could just smack you around a bit, but I don't fancy a trip to St. Mungo's, so a verbal lashing will simply have to do. What is the matter with you? Why are you being so obstinate?"

Forgetting he had ordered Draco to leave, Severus riled, "I am most certainly _not_ being obstinate!"

"Of course you are," Draco rolled his eyes. "That's what you do."

"Why on Earth are you here trying to play matchmaker, Mr. Malfoy, I do not have time for such dalliances."

"First of all, I'm here because I am attempting to save you from what I assure you would be a most unpleasant visit from the former Ms. Granger. I told her I thought I could make you see sense, but I allowed that if I am unsuccessful, she is welcome to have a go at you. Second, is that all you think this is to him? A 'dalliance'?"

"I do not merely think so, I am most sure of it."

Draco shook his head. "How in the world could you have come to that conclusion?"

"Because, Mr. Malfoy, as I have tried – on several occasions – to make clear to Mr. Potter, I refuse to be the person he uses to heal emotionally from his tragedy only to be tossed away when he realizes he has recovered enough to seek out more appropriate options."

Draco's eyes went wide before he rolled them and shook his head. "Harry may be hot-tempered, but he's remarkably careful with his heart. Never – not with Cho, or Ginny, or any other relationship he had in school – female or otherwise – never was he the one to end it. He puts everything into his relationships – he does not use people."

Severus was forced to pause before continuing, "Well, at any rate, he ought to – I don't know – 'test the waters', as it were, before trying to engage with someone who is in no way interested in a short-term affair."

Draco snorted, "Right. Because Potter has always been one to toe the waters. No, he always dives in head first. Usually into the shallow end."

This time, Severus was the one to roll his eyes. Draco was at least right about that.

"And how do you know that I am not refusing for other reasons? Perhaps I am not even interested?"

Draco leveled him an incredulous glare, raising his brow. "Please. The way you look at him is positively nauseating. Ever since the war. If I didn't know you the way that I do, I'd go so far as to say it's pathetic. I mean, back then, with Ginny there, he was never going to see you, we all knew that, but I mean, for God's sake, man – even _she_ knew. She practically begged him as her dying wish to get together with you so you could both be happy."

Severus felt annoyed, "Yes, he mentioned something about that."

Draco nodded his head in what was clearly a 'dear Lord I hope you're finally getting this' sort of way. "Yes. She wrote him a letter, in case something ever happened to her, and basically told him to go run into the sunset with you. In not so many words."

Severus sat back, recovered. "Regardless, I am too old and have been through too much to begin some sort of adolescent love affair."

Draco was growing impatient. "Oh stop, Severus. It's getting so tiring – you playing the martyr. Get over yourself already. I swear to you, if you don't do something, you're going to have lots more people to answer to – and they won't be nearly as pleasant. Or tactful."

"Yes, because that is something you obviously have in spades."

"Seriously. You both deserve it. To be happy. Together. Do something about it."

Severus put his head in his hands, elbows still propped on the desk. "Go," he said in a muffled voice. "You've made your point. Please, _please_ tell Mrs. Weasley that a visit from her will not be necessary."

Draco didn't reply as he got up and made his way to the door. Severus picked up his wand from the desk and muttered the counterspell to unlock it. He didn't have to look up.

Back in his quarters, Severus wracked his brains for what he could do. He was completely unconvinced that Potter's intentions were for something serious or long term. He was positive that after a few weeks, months – if things went well – that Potter would realize what a mistake it was to invest romantically with him. And he knew their friendship would never survive it. He didn't honestly know what hurt more to think about – being rejected or losing a friend. He decided he needed some way to test the depth of Potter's commitment. What could he do to see if it were something Potter was serious about? It took him a while, but he finally had a brain burst.

Harry untied the paper from the Owl and unrolled it.

_Mr. Potter,_

_As you may, or may not, be aware, I was treated to a most unexpected and unwelcome visit from the younger Mr. Malfoy yesterday. In the event you were not privy to his trip, he attempted to 'make me see sense' about your interest in a more intimate relationship. I emphatically explained to him that I remain entirely skeptical that this desire of yours – whether you intend for it to be or not – is little more than the need to fill an emotional void, which will pass quickly. If, as you so desperately insist, this is not the case and you truly believe your feelings to be of a more long term nature, I adamantly request that you tell your children about your desire to be with me and secure their approval before moving forward. I refuse to be a source of familial discord. You may Owl me when you have completed this task. Should you choose not to do so, you may rest assured that for quite some time in the future, I shall not be engaging in any games of chess with you._

_Professor Snape_

Harry smiled. Leave it to Severus to turn a molehill into a mountain. _The man could rival Dickens_, he smirked.

It was so close to the Christmas holidays that Harry decided to wait until all his children had converged at the house to explain his situation. He was reasonably sure they wouldn't mind that Harry was dating again (although he wouldn't necessarily call it dating, per se), but he truly wasn't sure if they would have a problem with it being Severus. Lily was still his student, after all. Perhaps she would request that they wait until summer, after she had graduated. That, he could do. If they had any further qualms, he decided, then that was too bad. They could get over it.

When he returned home with Lily from King's Cross, James and Albus were already in the living room, sipping wine and talking.

"Dad!" they both exclaimed, and got up to welcome their father and sister home. At dinner that evening, Harry decided to broach the subject of him and Severus.

_Best to start small_, he thought to himself. "So, I was hoping I could talk with you three about something. Something important. And I'd appreciate it if you could keep an open mind."

All three children looked at him quizzically. "Of course, Dad," James said, as if there were nothing in the world his father could say that would upset him.

"Well, it's been over a year since your mother passed, and, well…I was hoping you wouldn't be too opposed to me seeing someone new."

James, Albus and Lily exchanged looks across the table. The two youngest deferred to James. "Are you…are you asking our permission…to date someone?"

"Well, that's putting it badly," Harry said. "More that I want to make sure you don't get angry – thinking I'm dishonoring your mother's memory."

"Dad," Albus spoke this time, "we all read the letter Mum wrote you. We know better than anyone that she wanted you to be happy."

"We're surprised it's taken you this long, actually," James said. "We were sort of under the impression you'd already started."

Harry raised his brow. "What gave you that impression?"

James responded evasively, "Oh, you know, you've just sort of been in a better mood for the past few months."

"Hm. Well, no, I didn't want to start anything without mentioning it to you three first. I didn't want to take you by surprise." _Really, it was insensitive of me not to have thought to do this myself. Points to Severus,_ he thought to himself.

"Well, that's very thoughtful, Dad," Lily smiled.

"Do you mind telling us who it is? Who you'd like to start seeing?" James asked. "I mean, do we know the person?"

_Ah_, Harry thought, _here comes the hard part. How do you tell your three children, over dinner, that you are not, in fact, solely attracted to women?_ Awkward was too kind a term.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _Best to start at the beginning_, he decided. "Well, erm, there are some things you don't really know about me," Harry started. "When I was younger, I dated a lot. Well, not really a lot, I suppose, but more than just your mother."

"We figured that," James was slightly sarcastic.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, all the people I dated, before your mother, well, they weren't all…erm…they weren't all exactly girls." Harry waited for the revelation to sink in and for the verbal barrage to start.

"Ok," James responded after what Harry considered to be quite a short silence, given the bombshell he had just dropped. "And?"

Harry's eyes turned into saucers. "And what? Aren't you…aren't you…upset? Shocked? Disgusted?"

James exchanged an exasperated look with his siblings. "Really Dad, we're adults. We've been in the real world – well, Al and I have, but Lily's no babe-in-the-woods – we know how things work. Guys like guys, girls like girls, some people like everyone. Now, if you start telling us you want to spend some quality time with the owls…or maybe the garden gnomes…then we might have to start a serious discussion."

Harry had to suppress a smirk. It was impossible that they could be taking this so well.

But James was not to be deterred. "So, I suppose you're trying to tell us you want to start seeing a bloke. Fine. You still didn't tell us if we know him. And if we don't, when will we get to meet him? I mean, we'll have to decide if he's good enough for you," James winked and Harry blanched.

"That's supposed to be my job for Lily's dates."

"Who says you get to have all the fun?" James teased. "Seriously, who is he? Someone from work?"

_Well_, Harry decided, _in for a Knut, in for a Galleon_, and he took a deep breath. "No. It's Professor Snape."

Again, the shrieks of terror and discontent were absent, and James responded after an inordinately short period of time.

"Excellent! Thank God it won't be some awkward, over-dinner-conversation meeting."

"Excuse me?" Harry was dumbfounded. "Have you all lost your minds? I just told you that I am interested in dating a man – and not just any man, but Severus Snape, whom all of you had at school, and are brutally aware that he is not…charming."

"Don't tell him you said that, he won't want to go out with you," Al joked.

"My children are stand-up comedians." Harry was still struck silly.

"Well it's about damn time," James said. "We've been hoping you'd get on with it for ages. The way you looked at each other last Christmas, and then at Mum's celebration, it was pathetic."

"It was not," Lily admonished, "it was sweet."

Albus snorted, "He'd love to hear that."

James wagged his eyebrows.

"I still cannot, for the life of me, understand how you are all three taking this so lightly."

"Dad," Lily said in a tone that reminded him of when Ginny was teaching something to the children when they were small, "we've known for a long time that you and Professor Snape have a…well, a special relationship. Mum sort of explained it to us."

"Along with Uncle Ron," James interjected.

"And Aunt Hermione," Lily continued. "We want you to be happy. Mum knew you two would be happy together. We know he won't replace Mum – we know you don't even want him to. But if he can give you what you need, can make you happy, then who are we to stand in your way? We can only hope that whomever we choose to spend our lives with, you will be so open and supportive."

Harry wasn't entirely sure he hadn't been hit with a Petrificus Totalus spell.

"So, when's he going to come 'round for dinner?" James finally asked, breaking the silence.

_Severus,_

_I have done as you requested. My children seemed to be most insistent that you and I, and I quote, 'get on with it', and let me know it was 'about damn time' – I quote again. I hope to see you at the Weasley's holiday party next week, and perhaps have a conversation about any other excuses you can find to stall._

_Yours, Harry_

Would the Potter line never cease to be the bane of his existence? _Damn the effing brat_, Severus swore in his head, putting the note down on his desk and staring out the window. Well, at the charmed square of wall, rather – there were no windows in the dungeons. He had been counting on Harry to either refuse to tell his children, or at least for one of them to have voiced an insurmountable protest to the proposal. _Damn it_.

He figured he had no reasonable excuse to not attend the Christmas party now, and he didn't like the idea of another unsolicited visit from Mrs. Weasley, so he found the invite and checked the 'yes' box on the RSVP, then summoned an Owl from the school tower and sent it off to Sussex.


	8. Chapter 8

_Very mature content - slash - read with discretion_

**Chapter 7**

Throughout the entire party, Severus made sure not to drink anything that might compromise his judgment. Potter said he wanted to talk, and Severus wasn't sure when he might make his move and drag him somewhere. He had to keep his wits about him.

But Harry made no move to corner Severus, or even converse with him at all. He simply laughed and joked with the other guests and sipped his eggnog – the spiked, adult version, of course, Severus noted – and seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself. Severus found that he, too, was able to enjoy himself with some mild conversation, only becoming disconcerted when the Potter children threw him occasional glances, Lily usually elbowing her older brothers when she noticed them doing it. He suspected Harry had warned them not to accost him. He owed the brat one for that at least. Finally, Severus decided the time had come for him to leave – Christmas carols were starting and he did not, under any circumstances, plan to partake in that particular activity. He quietly made his way toward the door, his eyes catching Harry's movement over to his three children.

"Make sure she's not out too late, you two," he heard Harry say to James and Albus about Lily. The boys nodded and Lily grimaced. Harry slid his way to the door where Severus was attempting to make his escape. _Ah, here we go_, Severus mentally paid himself what was due from his internal bet. Wanting this to be as private as possible, he walked outside, waiting for Harry to follow. It wouldn't do to find Harry sitting on his living room couch when he got home, so he thought it best for them to have it out with each other here. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest and instead, opted for putting his hands in his pockets.

"Severus," Harry said as he came out the door, sans coat, "I'm glad I caught you."

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Potter?" Severus hoped Harry's lack of proper winter attire would keep this escapade short.

"Well, I was hoping we could, you know, talk. Not inside, it's too crowded. And the kids are going to be back home – do you think we could go to your quarters? Please?"

Severus sighed. This was getting old. "Must we, Mr. Potter? This evening? It is quite late."

"Don't make me beg, Severus. You owe me. At least a conversation."

"Owe you?" Severus began dangerously. "Under what delusional pretense are you suffering that you believe I 'owe you' anything?"

"I did what you asked. I told the kids. They're fine with it. You at least owe me a cordial talk."

"Now?"

"Well, again, I was hoping we could do it somewhere warmer – like your quarters."

The only thing keeping Severus from sprinting to the spot where he could Apparate was the knowledge that if he didn't at least talk to Potter, he was going to have to deal with Mrs. Weasley. And possibly several others. And he did not want to spend the remainder of his winter holidays filled with that sort of dread. Or annoyance.

"Fine. I suggest you get your coat. It is quite a walk from Hogsmeade to the castle, if you'll remember."

Harry ran back in to get his things – and tell people where he was going, Severus assumed – and was back quickly. They both walked to the edge of the yard and exchanged a glance.

"Are you really Apparating to Hogsmeade or are you going to ditch me?" Harry smirked.

"Brat," Severus let out with a sigh, but it was half-hearted. They both turned and were gone with a pop.

"Why didn't you just use the Floo? It would've been warmer," Harry bordered on whining as they were halfway to the castle.

"I happen to enjoy nighttime strolls, Mr. Potter. If you don't, then perhaps your venture tonight is in vain."

"You enjoy turning yourself into an icicle? That seems a bit sadistic."

"Well, I am the Dark Prince of Evil," Severus said snidely.

"Ah, there's the sarcasm I know and love," Harry said. He noticed Severus tense at the last word.

"Oh, get a grip," Harry moaned, "I'm not asking you to marry me." That didn't help relax the other man, who was now walking so stiffly it seemed as though he _had_ become an icicle. "You know, you're lucky it's so bloody cold out here, because I have half a mind to stop right now and shake you silly."

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, that would be the last thing you do before an extended trip to St. Mungo's."

Harry shook his head and pulled up the collar around his coat, glad he could now see the gates of the castle. Severus waved his wand and in just a few moments, the two of them were past the protective wards and on school grounds. They crunched their way up to the castle in silence. It was a testament to both their fitness levels that neither one of them was out of breath – nearly the entire trip had been uphill.

"Thank Merlin," Harry gasped as they entered the school, "I was freezing my arse off out there."

"Such poetry," Severus mocked.

"Yeah, well, you're the one who's good with words, must you rub it in?" Harry's response dripped with sarcasm.

Severus fought to keep a smile off his lips. Why, oh why, was Potter determined to ruin this? The familiar banter, the comfortable companionship? Why could he not see that what they had was fine – enjoyable – something not to be tampered with, risked for the sake of tenuous emotions.

They made their way down to the dungeons, Harry grousing the whole way about the stone castle and lack of warming spells. Severus muttered the spell to enter his chamber and opened the door, intimating that Harry should enter before him.

The door closed behind them and Harry already had his coat off. Severus reached out to take it from him.

"Thanks," Harry said. "D'you want me to take off the boots, too? They're pretty wet."

"That would be appreciated, thank you. There is a mat here to put them on."

Harry kicked his boots off and hung his scarf and hat on the same peg Severus had hung his coat. They both made their way to the living room.

"Sit," Severus invited. "I'll get us something to drink."

_Odd_, Harry thought, _why doesn't he just conjure something up – or ask the house elf to bring it? Is he trying to buy time? Is he nervous?_

When Severus returned, he was carrying a wine bottle and two glasses. "Red all right?" He asked, already pouring.

Harry nodded. He accepted the glass and sipped. Harry was already on the couch, so Severus sat in the opposing arm chair so he could see Harry. Neither one of them said anything for a while. Severus decided he was not going to be the one to break the silence.

"Did you have a nice time at the party?" Harry finally asked.

"As nice as can be expected from a gathering such as that," he said politely.

Harry smirked, "Such a social butterfly, you are."

Severus nodded once, allowed himself a half eye roll, and took another sip of wine.

"There is going to be an opening for Defense next year. Professor Harris is taking a position elsewhere," Severus said.

"Really? That's interesting."

"I thought, perhaps, if you were interested in a break from the whirlwind of being an Auror, that you might consider taking up the post. Perhaps enjoy the down time."

"Right," Harry rolled his eyes and shifted on the couch, "because teaching is full of down time. Did McGonagall get you to recruit me?"

"No. I just knew that you ran the group of students back in your fifth year and I heard rumors you were reasonably effective as a teacher. I thought you might enjoy the change of pace – at least for a year or two."

"I'll think about it. It does, actually, sound nice."

"Taking a break from the Ministry?"

"No, being back here. At Hogwarts. With you."

And they were full circle. Severus stayed silent.

"So," Harry broke the pause. "Well, I suppose I should start by saying that I had nothing to do with Draco coming here. Well, not directly. It was supposed to be Hermione. She was my 'Plan B'. I had no idea that they decided to send Draco instead."

_If that was 'Plan B', what on Earth had been 'Plan A'?_ Severus thought. He wasn't sure what to say, so he merely nodded once again.

"And I did tell my kids. That I want to start seeing you – as more than a friend. They really were more than gracious. It was weird."

"Weird?" Severus rolled the word around in his mouth.

"Yeah, having to tell your kids that you're attracted to men as well as women and that you want to start seeing a bloke – and not just any bloke, but their current, and former, Professor – whom many people don't really understand. Or like. All of that in one conversation – I thought I was going to have to revive them from shock. But they just took it in stride. Told me they already knew. I suppose everybody knew. Seems like you and I were the last to know."

"To know what, Mr. Potter?" Severus was not ready to have this conversation. _Not ready, not ready, not ready_, he chanted in his head.

"Severus, could you please at least consent to call me Harry? It makes me feel like you're less annoyed by me. And even though you might not be, I'd enjoy the courtesy of familiarity."

"Fine. To know what, Harry?"

"Please tell me we're past the evasiveness now, Severus. I've made it abundantly clear how I feel. You have made it abundantly clear that the only reason you are not accepting my invitation is because you think me unready, unhealed, unstable, or something along those lines. Are you really so terrified that I would 'toss you away'?"

The use of his words to Draco was not lost on Severus. "Harry, I cannot understand why you want to ruin what we have. Even if your intention was to have this endeavor be long term, if something went wrong, if it did not work out, our friendship would be dissolved. As I believe we both cited several months ago, I would rather have a friendship with you than nothing at all."

"Why, Severus? Why am I so insistent? Because I know, Severus, and so does everyone else, that it would not be ruined. It would work out. It would be so much better – so much more than what we have now. We've been dancing around it for ages. Please. Please, Severus, please give this a chance. Give us a chance. I am begging you. I've tried everything else."

Severus set his wine glass down on the small table next to his armchair. He pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and took in a deep breath. Then, he pushed himself up with both hands and walked over to the mantle, gripping it with both hands as he leaned in slightly. He looked up at the portrait that hung over the fireplace and noticed, with some surprise, that the former founder had left the painting. Only the snake remained in the now-empty chair, coiled, tongue flicking, staring at Severus. The snake rolled its eyes. _Wonderful_, Severus thought, _I'm being chided by a snake_. _A painted snake._ In his reverie of the painting, Severus hadn't heard Harry get up off the couch to come up behind him. He started slightly when hands wrapped around him from behind. Warm hands, strong hands, soft hands. Hands that had been in his dreams too frequently to count over the past year. Severus felt Harry lean gently into him, his cheek resting against Severus' back.

"I swear I will not hurt you," Harry whispered.

Severus hung his head, defeated. "I am afraid," he said softly, simply.

"Don't be," Harry tightened his arms around Severus, his hands moving up near his shoulders.

Severus straightened up and took his hands off the mantle. He brought them gently to the hands that were resting softly on his chest and pried them just a few inches away. Harry instantly dropped his arms. When Severus turned around, he saw Harry with his head down, eyes on the floor, chin nearly touching his chest. Severus was amazed at how much he looked like a school boy denied a trip to Hogsmeade. Their bodies were only inches apart, now. It was impossible for Severus not to feel the energy between them. The tightening in his stomach began, and slowly reached fever pitch as he steeled himself with resolve.

"Harry," Severus whispered, bringing his hands up slowly to cup the younger man's face at his jaw.

Harry's face jerked up at Severus' touch, his eyes bright with moisture. Severus felt a sharp pang in his gut at the sight of Harry's welling tears. He smoothed his thumb along the lower part of Harry's cheek in comfort. He reached up to remove Harry's glasses and twisted around to set them on the mantle. He looked back and lost his breath. Harry's eyes were startling, still glistening with unshed sorrow, rejection, or both. _Dammit_, he sighed internally, and closed his eyes.

Severus brought his face down to Harry's slowly, his eyes back open, fixed on Harry's. Once they were close enough that Severus had to tilt Harry's head sideways, he saw Harry close his eyes. He did the same. He hesitated the space of a heartbeat and then moved the extra millimeters to touch their lips together. Harry's lips were so soft, Severus marveled at the feel of them on his. In his hands, he could feel the roughness on Harry's cheeks from the day. Severus inhaled and was stunned by the smell that would always be Harry – the wood and grass and wind and sun and – Severus parted his lips and let out a soft, nearly inaudible sigh.

It was Harry's undoing. He threw his arms up around Severus' neck and threaded his fingers through the long, inky-black hair. It was so soft, Harry noted, so fine. He pulled their faces closer together, crushing their lips in an open kiss. Uninhibited, Harry's tongue darted out of his mouth and into Severus', just for a moment. Severus' body jerked into Harry's as though a bolt of electricity had moved through him. His hands slid down to the small of Harry's back and he pulled the body into him, eliminating any remaining space between them.

Neither one of them was aware that they were moving, so when Harry's legs hit the couch, he stumbled and they both fell into the cushions. Harry swung one leg up and left the other crooked off to the floor. Severus settled himself on either side of Harry's couched leg and realized that his hands were still behind Harry's back, so he could support himself on his forearms. Harry threw his head back, exposing his neck, and Severus trailed kisses down his jaw and throat all the way to the V at the base of Harry's neck where his thin cardigan jumper began. Harry's hands came from behind Severus' head to the front of his body where they began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Harry felt Severus shift and realized he wanted to free one of his hands, so Harry rose up a bit to help him. In doing so, their hips met and it was inescapable to both men that they were very, very aroused. With his free hand, Severus moved underneath Harry's jumper to feel his abdomen. It was taut, sparse with hair, and so soft. He moved his hand upward and heard Harry let out a soft moan. By now, Harry had undone enough buttons that he could, and did, trace the contours of Severus' chest, causing the man above him to let out a quiet gasp of pleasure. Harry tugged to get the shirt untucked from Severus' trousers. Severus pushed Harry's jumper further up on his chest. Harry dropped his hands and tried to push himself up on his elbows. Severus sat up onto his knees, one leg dropping to the floor for support. Harry ripped his shirt off in one, fluid movement and tossed it to the floor. He was about to lay back down when a more pleasant idea occurred to him.

"Since we're sort of up, why don't we continue this somewhere with more room?" He suggested.

Severus stood up and moved toward the other side of the room to a large, mahogany door, behind which Harry assumed was a bedroom.

"I meant the floor, but, this works, too."

Severus rolled his eyes and opened the door. He let Harry in first and then said the spell to softly light the room. Harry had only just made it inside when Severus closed the door and spun Harry around, capturing him in another back-breaking kiss. He walked them over to the bed and gently pushed Harry down. He backed up and finished with his shirt buttons as Harry scooted back and got entirely onto the bed, leaning against the pillows.

Severus shrugged out of his shirt and walked back over to the bed, his eyes stalking Harry. Harry felt his pulse race with anticipation as he saw Severus' eyes roam over his body hungrily. Severus crawled up so he was hovering over Harry and began kissing him again in earnest. Horizontal as they were, it was impossible to keep their lower bodies separate, and their legs entwined, pressing their hips together again. Harry moaned in the back of his throat when Severus shifted slightly to trail kisses along his jaw again. Severus' heart was pounding; he was still so unsure. He felt as if he were perched on a cliff. A tremendously high cliff and he couldn't see what was below him. He was being asked to jump, blindly, and he had no idea if he was going to land on jagged rocks or in a pool of warm, beautiful water – or somewhere in between. He brought his mouth to Harry's ear and traced the outline with his nose.

"Harry, is this what you want? Are you sure?" _Please back out now if you're not, I won't be able to stand it if you leave me._

Harry brought his hands up around Severus' back and gripped tightly, pulling Severus' entire body onto him, not caring about the weight. "Yes," he whispered, "yes, please, Severus, I want it. I want you. I want you forever."

And Severus jumped off the cliff.

As he fell through the air something happened inside him. He felt something unclenching – something in his chest, like a flower long dormant opening up to bloom, craving the sun. The petals bent back, away from the center, turning from a stone, steely gray to a vibrant palate of color. He breathed deeply and the flower's petals pushed out more. He was alive.

And he was kissing Harry. More forcefully, and with abandon. Harry felt the change in the ardor and let out another moan, kissing Severus everywhere his lips could find purchase. Cheek, lips, throat, shoulder, chest, everywhere was not enough. He heard Severus' breathing pick up pace. He felt Severus' body move down, slowly, kissing his flesh as he moved. Every spot of contact sent a burn of desire straight to his groin. Severus' mouth went straight down Harry's chest while his hands followed on either side, trailing over the nipples and making Harry slam his hands down into the sheets, fisting the fabric. Severus smirked. He traversed still lower until he reached his obstacle: Harry's pants. He could just spell them off, _but where's the fun in that_? He slowly undid the button and zipper of the jeans and folded down the flaps, his thumbs rubbing small circles on the skin now only covered by boxers. Harry's breathing hitched. Severus tugged gently on the pants and Harry lifted his hips to allow Severus to pull them off, boxers and all. In a more fluid movement than Harry would have thought possible, his pants and underwear were off and on the floor, and Severus was back between his legs, face-deep in his crotch. At first, Severus wove his fingers through the coarse hair around Harry's base, causing Harry to nearly buck off the bed.

"Like that, do you?" Severus growled silkily.

"For the love of…would you stop that and do it already?"

"A lack of patience is what made you such a lamentable potions maker."

"Do you want me to…ahhhh…holy…"

Severus had put Harry's head into his mouth, licking and sliding his tongue everywhere. He knew he wasn't going to be able to do much with Harry writing around like a fish out of water, so he shifted and pinned Harry's hips to the bed. Harry whimpered when he realized what Severus was doing. Harry moved his hands to Severus' hair in what was a feeble attempt to push Severus' head further down.

"I shall not be rushed, Mr. Potter," Severus said, letting Harry slide out of his mouth.

"Oh fuck, don't stop, Severus, please, I need you…I need…I…ahhhmmmyyyy…Sssssevvv…"

Severus had put him back in his mouth and was going down further, applying pressure with his tongue. Severus felt Harry's knees pull up off the bed and he knew Harry wouldn't hold on much longer. He swallowed him completely, sucking hard and letting go of Harry's hips, allowing him to thrust up into his mouth. He instead, moved his hands to Harry's balls, cupping them softly and rolling them. Harry ground his hips into Severus' mouth and let out a string of expletives that were largely incoherent before arching completely off the bed and emitting a strangled cry as he exploded into Severus' throat. Severus drank him dry before letting him go, trailing back up with kisses along the same line he had gone down. As he made his way up to Harry's head, he saw a dazed, sated look glazed in Harry's eyes. He shifted to roll to the side, but Harry seemed to snap to his senses.

"Where do you think you're going? We are far from finished."

Severus raised a brow.

"You don't think I'm going to let you off that easy, do you? Your trousers are still on." Harry moved a hand down to feel the bulge in Severus' pants. "And I'd wager they're a little uncomfortable right now. You'd better take them off, though; I'll admit I'd be a lot less graceful than you were with mine."

Harry was unsurprised at the speed and efficiency with which Severus removed the remainder of his clothes. He quickly brought his body back to Harry's and resumed kissing, hungrily jabbing his own tongue into Harry's mouth and alternately taking Harry's in his. Harry tore his mouth away and gasped for breath.

"Your turn," he said. When Severus pulled his face back in question, Harry continued. "Do you top, or am I going to get to give you mind-blowing head?"

"Flip over, brat," Severus swatted Harry's arse as he flopped unceremoniously onto his stomach. "Merlin, your arse is beautiful," Severus murmured.

"It'll be even more beautiful with you inside it," Harry teased. Severus felt his stomach jump. He muttered an _Accio_ spell and a small bottle jumped into his hand. He coated his hands liberally with the oil and began rubbing Harry's arse. Harry buried his head in his arms at the head of the bed.

"Do you want a pillow?" Severus offered. Harry grabbed the nearest one and flung it back to him. "Such grace," he mocked.

He slid the pillow under Harry's hips and entered him with one slick finger. Harry moaned and writhed with pleasure. He pulled out after a few moments and went in with two. This time, he was able to feel the bump of the prostate and he nudged it, eager to see Harry's reaction. Or hear it, as it were.

"Holy…damn…Severus…for the love of…Oh…" Harry's verbal eloquence continued in incoherent, monosyllabic groans. Severus went in with three fingers this time and Harry nearly rose off the pillow to meet him. Deciding Harry was ready, he positioned himself at Harry's entrance.

"Go!" Harry tried to wiggle closer to Severus, and Severus chuckled. "Not…funny…you…wait…"

"What are you going to do, stutter at me?" Severus was enjoying this immensely.

"I…you…next…tiiiiiiiiii…ohyesohyesohyes…" Harry had pushed himself up so that he could sit back into Severus as he entered him. Severus gasped at Harry's heat. He guided Harry's hips back until he was completely inside him, trying to stop Harry from writhing.

"…" Harry begged.

Severus began slowly, with short moves that reduced Harry to little more than gurgles. Then, his strokes were longer, harder, and had more force behind them. Harry was moving with him, angling just right so Severus could hit his spot every time.

"Hard…again…take me…please…" Harry cried out with each thrust.

Severus reached his hand around Harry's front and took Harry in his hand. In rhythm, he stroked Harry inside and out. He couldn't even understand a word Harry was saying, but a second later, he felt Harry's body convulse and he shouted out.

"Sevvvvvvvverussssss…"

Severus felt the muscles contract around him and with a final push he shuddered, his body exploding into Harry, calling out his name. Their bodies both jerked in the aftermath, and Severus finally slipped out of Harry and they both fell to the bed onto their backs, spent. After catching their respective breaths, they turned to face each other, legs tangling together, arms and hands wound around each other suggesting years of familiarity. Severus looked into the striking green eyes across from him, taking in the sheen of sweat on the forehead, the messy mop of hair sticking up every-which-way, the indulgent smile playing on the lips.

"I am an idiot," Severus muttered.

"I'm not sure I'd go that far, but elaborate and I might be convinced," Harry led him.

"Why on Earth I fought so hard against this for so long is beyond me. Much as I detest admitting it, you were more than right."

"Well, me and half of England."

"Fair point."

"I can give you something to be 'hard against'," Harry wormed his body closer to Severus'.

"Dear Lord, boy, I'm near seventy, I'll be lucky to get it up again sometime this week."

"Seventy is the new thirty."

Severus snorted.

"But I'll take it whenever I can get it. As often as I can get it. For the rest of my life," Harry whispered.

"You're sure you won't need to find anyone to fill in the gaps?"

"You're right. You are an idiot." Harry snuggled his head into Severus' chest. Soon, they were both asleep, holding each other as if to never let go.


	9. Chapter 9

**Epilogue**

_Ginny looked down from her spot in the afterlife. Dumbledore, Lupin, Sirius, James, Lily, everyone was there._

"_I told you they'd get there eventually," Albus said, patting Ginny's arm._

"_They'd have been there sooner if Snape hadn't been such a thickhead," Sirius groused._

"_Padfoot, stop being such a downer," James scolded._

"_They're beautiful, aren't they?" Lily smiled, staring at her two special boys – one a lost love, the other her son._

"_Well, he was never able to realize his love for you, but how fitting that he will get to through your son," Lupin whispered._

"_Well," Ginny smiled, looking back down at her husband and feeling at peace, knowing he was happy once more, "he does have your eyes._

.: Finis :.


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